Division  3334,55 

Section  .B8VW3 


IN  FARTHEST 


BURMA 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/infarthestburmar00ward_0 


Maru  Maidens. 

Each  wears  a short  cotton  jacket  and  striped  hand-woven  skirt,  with  belt  of  brass  bells. 
Silver  hoops  encircle  the  neck  and  enormous  brass  rings  hang  from  the  ears. 


IN  FARTHEST^ 

B U R M A f >,.3,0,11 

Vi 

THE  RECORD  OF  AN  ARDUOUS  JOURT^V  . , , , . 

OF  EXPLORATION  AND  RESEARCH 
THROUGH  THE  UNKNOWN 
FRONTIER  TERRITORY 
OF  BURMA  AND 
TIBET 


BY 


y 


Captain  F.  KINGDON  WARD,  B.A.,  F.R.G.S. 

Late  Indian  Army  Keserve  of  Officers,  attached  i/e/6th  Mahrattas 


AUTHOR  or 

“the  land  of  the  blue  poppy,”  “by  the  waters 
or  kham,”  &c.,  b*c. 


WITH  MANY  ILLUSTRATIONS  & TWO  MAPS 


PHILADELPHIA 

J.  B.  LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

LONDON:  SEELEY,  SERVICE  6-  CO.  LTD. 
1921 

/ 


I 


TO 

The  Hon.  VV.  A.  HERTZ,  C.S.I. 

LATE  COMMISSIONER,  MAGWE 
UPPER  BURMA 


“ Then  some  of  us  went  away  and  annexed  Burma,  and  some 
tried  to  open  up  the  Soudan,  and  were  opened  up  by  Fuzzies 
in  that  cruel  scrub  outside  Suakim.  ...” 

Rudyard  Kipling 


PREFACE 


MANY  of  the  illustrations  contained  in  this 
volume  I owe  to  the  kindness  of  frontier 
officers,  and  my  thanks  are  especially  due 
to  Mr  P.  M.  R.  Leonard  of  the  Frontier  Service,  and 
to  Mr  T.  Hare  of  the  Public  Works  Department, 
also  to  Mr  A.  W.  Porter. 

I am  much  indebted  to  Major  J.  E.  Cruickshank  of 
the  i/2nd  Gurkhas  (late  of  the  Burma  Military  Police) 
for  assistance  while  I was  at  Hpimaw ; to  Mr  J.  T.  O. 
Barnard,  C.I.E.,  now  Deputy  Commissioner,  Fort  Hertz; 
and  to  Major  J.  de  L.  Conry  of  the  Erimpuras. 

Finally,  I must  record  the  debt  of  gratitude  I owe 
to  Mr  W.  A.  Hertz,  C.S.I.,  late  Commissioner,  Magwe, 
Upper  Burma,  and  to  Surgeon  Brooks  of  the  Indian 
Medical  Service,  who  together  pulled  me  through  a 
serious  illness  at  Fort  Hertz. 

F.  K.  W. 

London,  1920. 


9 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

In  the  Jungle  .... 

PAOE 

17 

CHAPTER  II 
Life  at  a Frontier  Fort 

33 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Forest  of  Winds  and  Waters 

5i 

CHAPTER  IV 

Fever  Camp  ..... 

65 

CHAPTER  V 
Ascent  of  a Virgin  Peak 

81 

CHAPTER  VI 

In  the  Temperate  Rain  Forest 

96 

CHAPTER  VII 
In  the  Land  of  the  Crossbow 

. 1 10 

CHAPTER  VIII 
Over  the  Wulaw  Pass 

126 

CHAPTER  IX 
By  the  Singing  River 

141 

CHAPTER  X 

Among  the  Marus  .... 

15* 

CHAPTER  XI 

The  Long  Trail  .... 

. 167 

CHAPTER  XII 

Among  the  Lisus  .... 

183 

IO 


CONTENTS  1 1 

CHAPTER  XIII 

PAOB 

A Desperate  March  . . . . .201 

CHAPTER  XIV 

Infinite  Torment  of  Leeches  . . . 214 

CHAPTER  XV 

The  Plains  ......  228 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Through  the  Kachin  Hills  . . . 244 

CHAPTER  XVII 

Back  to  Civilisation.  ....  259 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  North-East  Frontier  . . . .274 

Appendices  ......  293 

Index  .......  305 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


Maru  Maidens  ..... 

Frontispiece 

The  Mighty  Mahseer  .... 

PAGE 

25 

Cane  Bridge  over  the  Ngawchang  River  . 

• 

25 

A Maru  Matron  ..... 

72 

Yawyin  Children ..... 

88 

Imaw  Bum  in  June  .... 

88 

A Yawyin  Lisu  Family  on  the  Burma  Frontier  . 

1 12 

Maru  Women  pounding  Maize  . 

152 

Young  Nungs  ..... 

168 

A Black  Lisu  of  the  Ahkyang 

184 

A Black  Lisu  Girl  .... 

184 

Nung  Maidens  ..... 

192 

An  Iron  Smelter  ..... 

192 

A Maru  Grave  ..... 

208 

A Nung  Rope  Bridge  .... 

208 

A Duleng  Village  .... 

216 

Shan  Girls,  Hkamti  Long 

12 

216 

LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


A Duleng  Girl  ginning  Cotton  . 

A Hammock  Bridge 
The  Monastery,  Putao  Village  . 
Religious  Festival  on  the  Hkamti  Plain  . 
A Kachin  Village  on  the  Burma  Frontier 
Kachin  Raft  on  the  Mali  Hka  . 


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THE  BURMESE  HINTERLAND 


1 


IN  FARTHEST  BURMA 


CHAPTER  I, 

IN  THE  JUNGLE 

THE  fateful  year  1914  found  me  back  in  Burma 
ready  to  pursue  my  botanical  researches  in 
another  direction. 

Throughout  1913  I had  continued  those  investiga- 
tions, begun  in  1911,  of  the  flora  of  North-West 
Yun-nan,  to  which  reference  is  made  in  a previous 
work 1 — investigations  carried  into  South-East  Tibet 
on  the  one  hand  and  as  far  as  the  frontiers  of  re- 
motest Burma  on  the  other.  I now  determined  to 
see  something  of  the  Burmese  hinterland  from 
within. 

In  coming  to  this  decision  I was  partly  influenced 
by  recent  events  on  the  North-East  Frontier,  which 
besides  drawing  my  attention  to  a previously  un- 
explored region  had  made  access  to  it  easier  than 
hitherto. 

For  several  years  past  the  nebulous  country  where 
Burma,  China,  Tibet  and  Assam  meet  had  been  the 
scene  of  political  collisions  which  threatened  to  blaze 
up  in  the  firmament  of  Indian  frontier  politics  as  an 

1 The  Land  of  the  Blue  Poppy,  by  F.  Kingdon  Ward.  Cambridge 
University  Press,  1913. 


B 


17 


1 8 IN  THE  JUNGLE 

incandescent  body  of  uncertain  behaviour.  When  at 
last  out  of  this  growing  welter  things  resolved  them- 
selves, the  climax  was  soon  reached  in  the  British 
occupation  of  Hkainti  Long,  a small  plain  surrounded 
by  high  mountains  some  twx>  hundred  miles  north  of 
Myitkyina. 

Here,  completely  cut  off  from  their  relations  in  the 
south  by  savage  tribes  inhabiting  the  densely  forested 
mountains  which  enclose  the  plain  on  all  sides,  have 
dwrelt  for  centuries  an  isolated  colony  of  Shans, 
numbering  to-day  only  a few  hundred  families.  Just 
previous  to  this  occupation,  the  more  immediate  valleys 
to  the  east  and  north-east  of  Myitkyina  on  the  Burma- 
Yun-nan  frontier  had  also  been  brought  under  the 
direct  control  of  the  Burma  Government  and  the 
frontier  for  some  distance  north  delimited ; and  it  was 
primarily  in  this  direction — namely,  up  the  valley  of 
the  ’Nmai  hka,  or  eastern  branch  of  the  Irrawaddy  and 
its  tributaries — that  I proposed  to  carry  on  my 
W’ork. 

The  ranges  of  the  extreme  Burma-Yun-nan  frontier, 
which  are  crowmed  by  peaks  13,000  feet  high,  belong 
to  the  same  mountain  system  as  the  Sino-Tibetan 
ranges  farther  north,  wdiere  I had  started  my  explora- 
tions, and,  as  will  be  subsequently  pointed  out,  may 
even  be  in  direct  communication  with  them. 

I therefore  planned  a visit  to  the  mountain  ranges 
of  the  North-East  Frontier,  on  the  borders  of  Yun-nan, 
to  be  followed  if  practicable  by  an  extended  recon- 
naissance up  the  Burma-C.hina  frontier  and  across  to 
the  newly  occupied  post  at  Hkamti  Long,  whence 
I hoped  eventually  to  reach  Assam. 

How  this  programme  was  only  partly  carried  out 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  19 

in  the  face  of  sickness,  the  unimaginable  difficulties 
of  this  terrible  country  and  the  crowning  thunderbolt 
which  fell  on  Europe  in  August,  1914 — of  which,  how- 
ever, I knew  nothing  until  23rd  September,  when  I was 
yet  twenty-four  marches  from  the  railway — is  related 
in  the  following  chapters. 

Towards  the  end  of  April  I left  Rangoon  for 
Myitkyina,  the  northern  terminus  of  the  Burma  rail- 
way, 720  miles  distant,  whence  I had  started  for  China 
in  1913. 

Although  Bhamo,  600  miles  from  the  sea,  is  con- 
sidered the  head  of  steam  navigation  on  the  Irrawaddy, 
small  launches  can  and  do  ascend  the  famous  first  defile 
above  Bhamo  in  the  dry  season,  when  the  water  is  lour ; 
and  from  Myitkyina,  where  the  river  broadens  out 
again,  it  is  possible  to  ascend  another  twenty  miles  to 
the  confluence  of  the  Mali  hka  and  the  ’Nmai  hka,  nearly 
1000  miles  from  the  sea.  Beyond  the  confluence,  how- 
ever, steam  navigation  is  impossible  either  up  the 
’Nmai  hka,  the  eastern  branch  and  true  source  stream 
of  the  Irrawaddy,  or  up  the  western  branch,  called  the 
Mali  hka;  but  whereas  the  former  is  an  enormously 
tempestuous  river  rushing  along  at  the  bottom  of 
a deep  cleft  in  the  mountains,  comparable  in  all  respects 
with  the  great  Tibetan  rivers  such  as  the  Mekong  and 
Salween,  and  hence  unnavigable  for  any  kind  of  craft, 
the  latter  is  navigable  for  shallow  draught  country 
boats  at  least  as  far  north  as  ’Nsop-zup,  and  for 
Kachin  rafts  a good  deal  farther. 

Little  did  I realise  that  some  of  the  military  police 
officers  I now  met  in  the  Myitykina  club  would,  ere 
a year  had  passed,  lie  dead  in  France  with  the  glorious 
epitaph,  “ Killed  in  Action,”  inscribed  over  their  graves, 


20  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

while  others,  still  happily  living,  would  be  veterans  in 
war. 

We  crossed  the  Irrawaddy,  whose  waters  had  risen 
suddenly  in  the  course  of  a night,  to  Waingmaw  on 
30th  April,  but  on  the  following  afternoon  I returned 
to  Myitkyina,  leaving  my  caravan  waiting  for  me  at 
Waingmaw,  and  did  not  get  back  again  till  nearly  mid- 
night. Leaving  Myitkyina  after  dinner,  I hired  a 
country  boat  and  by  the  light  of  a crescent  moon  we 
dropped  down  with  the  current.  It  was  cool  and  rest- 
ful out  here  on  the  bosom  of  the  great  river.  In  the 
west  the  setting  moon  hung  poised  over  the  ebony 
mountain  ranges,  throwing  a band  of  silver  across  the 
water  which  danced  and  frolicked  under  the  bluff 
where  the  current  ran  swiftly.  The  stars,  reflected 
deep  down  in  the  placid  stream  of  mid-river,  twinkled 
brilliantly,  and  the  warm  scent  of  the  jungle  filled  the 
air.  There  was  no  sound  save  now  and  again  the 
slapping  of  saucy  waves  against  the  side  of  the  boat 
and  the  crooning  song  of  the  Burman  perched  in  the 
stern  steering — the  boatman  forward,  who  completed 
the  crew,  had  dropped  off  to  sleep  as  soon  as  he  had 
paddled  us  out  into  mid-river. 

So  I lay  back  and  drank  in  the  beauties  of  the 
night.  How  wonderful  it  would  be  to  go  on 

drifting,  drifting  down  the  stream  always ; but  the 
thought  was  momentary,  there  was  stern  work  ahead. 
I could  not  afford  to  live  in  a dream  world,  and  when 
the  boat  grated  on  sand  under  the  high  bank  at 
Waingmaw  I came  out  of  my  reverie. 

On  2nd  May  we  started  down  the  straight  road 
through  the  half-leafless  monsoon  jungle  to  the  Shan 
village  of  Wauhsaung,  where  the  road  branches.  I 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  21 

had  with  me  twelve  mules,  looked  after  by  three 
Chinese  muleteers,  hired  in  Myitkyina,  who  would 
take  me  as  far  as  Hpimaw ; and  two  Chinese  servants 
of  my  own,  one  from  distant  Li-kiang,  who  had 
accompanied  me  to  Burma  on  my  return  from  Yun-nan 
a month  before,  and  one  from  Myitkyina,  who  spoke  a 
little  Burmese  and  might,  I thought,  be  useful  on  the 
frontier  for  that  reason,  though  as  a matter  of  fact 
wfe  were  very  soon  beyond  the  range  of  any  Burman- 
speaking  people.  The  name  of  the  former  was  T‘ung- 
ch‘ien,  that  of  the  latter  Lao-niu,  or  “ old  cow,”  to 
translate  it. 

At  Wauhsaung  we  turned  aside  from  the  main  road 
via  Sadon  to  T‘eng-yueh,  for  my  destination  was  not 
Yun-nan,  but  the  frontier  region  itself,  and  I intended 
to  follow  the  frontier  northwards,  keeping  on  the 
Burma  side,  till  I reached  mountains  of  sufficient  altitude 
to  support  a true  alpine  flora.  Two  years  before  we 
should,  after  leaving  Wauhsaung,  have  found  ourselves 
on  a jungle  path,  with  unbridged  rivers;  but  in  1912 
a good  mule  road  had  been  made  by  the  Public  Works 
Department  as  far  as  Hpimaw,  the  last  occupied  post 
on  the  frontier,  fourteen  stages  from  Waingmaw. 

The  journey  divides  itself  very  naturally  into  two 
parts. 

For  the  first  seven  stages  the  road  keeps  to  the 
low-lying  country  and  foot-hills  in  the  valley  of  the 
’Nmai  hka,  closely  following  the  river,  which  is  generally 
visible,  or  at  least  audible ; then  it  leaves  the  main 
river  and,  crossing  a high  ridge,  winds  up  and  down 
amongst  the  tangled  jungle-clad  mountains  lying 
between  the  ’Nmai  hka  and  the  Salwreen-Irrawaddy 
watershed,  whose  crest  marks  the  frontier,  eventually 


22  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

following  the  valley  of  the  Ngawchang  hka,  a big 
tributary  of  the  ’Nmai  hka.1 

On  3rd  May  we  marched  seventeen  miles  to  a small 
Shan  village,  where  I slept  in  the  local  Buddhist 
temple,  a plain  bamboo  hut  thatched  with  palm  leaves, 
and  distinguished  from  the  residential  huts  chiefly  by 
several  umbrellas  suspended  from  the  roof  over  an  altar 
adorned  with  two  wooden  Buddhas.  The  road  through 
the  forest  was  monotonously  level  all  the  way,  and  I 
saw  few  flowers  save  one  or  two  orchids  in  the  grass 
by  the  wayside,  and  a sturdy  pyramidal  Curcuma  with 
lemon-yellow  flowers  concealed  beneath  a scale  armour 
of  pink-tipped  bracts  which  growrs  commonly  in  open 
forest  glades  throughout  Upper  Burma. 

It  was  only  a few  miles  to  the  military  police  post 
of  Seniku,  perched  on  a hill  above  the  Tumpang  hka, 
where  we  arrived  at  midday  on  the  4th.  Here  I was 
only  too  glad  to  rest  in  the  excellent  bungalow  pro- 
vided, for  the  heat  was  oppressive.  In  the  afternoon 
a breeze  sprang  up,  and  through  the  growing  mistiness 
vast  clouds  could  be  seen  taking  shape. 

The  view  from  the  bungalow  over  the  Kachin  hills, 
with  the  silver  streak  of  the  ’Nmai  hka  gleaming  below, 
is  very  fine;  in  the  distance  the  faint  outline  of 
mountains  can  be  discerned.  Huge  columns  of  black 
smoke  rose  into  the  air  from  the  burning  jungle,  which 
roared  and  crackled  all  round  us ; it  was  being  burnt 
for  clearings,  and  though  it  seems  a sin  to  destroy  in  a 
few  hours  what  it  has  taken  perhaps  centuries  to  build 
up,  still  man  must  be  served. 

On  5th  May,  after  crossing  the  Tumpang  hka,  a con- 

1 The  word  hka , which  is  of  frequent  occurrence,  is  the  Kachin  word 
for  river. 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  23 

tinuous  roar  filled  our  ears,  and  at  last  we  glimpsed 
the  ’Nmai  hka  through  a screen  of  bamboos ; later  on 
we  came  right  down  to  it,  a powerful  river,  rushing 
swiftly  amongst  the  rocks. 

In  the  distance  high  mountains  were  beginning  to 
lift  up  their  heads.  The  monsoon  jungle  was  full  of 
strange  noises,  which  ceased  mysteriously  as  soon  as 
one  stopped  to  listen.  A rustling  of  dry  leaves — 
lizards  scampering  about  under  the  bamboos;  a depre- 
cating cough  overhead — monkeys  are  watching  our 
every  movement. 

It  is  a most  eerie  sensation  to  feel  that  you  are  being 
watched  by  scores  of  half-human  creatures  hidden  in 
the  trees  and  quite  invisible.  If  you  stand  still  a 
moment  there  will  gradually  steal  over  the  jungle  a 
dead  silence,  broken  presently  by  a little  purr;  if  you 
are  quick  you  may  catch  sight  of  a monkey  playing 
peep-bo  with  you  in  a tree,  but  as  soon  as  he  feels  he 
is  spotted  the  head  is  withdrawn  behind  a branch  and 
a moment  later  poked  carefully  round  the  other  side. 
Suddenly  the  silent  trees  are  alive  with  baboons 
coughing,  grunting  like  pigs  and  plunging  off  into  the 
jungle;  they  seem  to  spring  out  of  the  violently 
agitated  foliage,  where  a moment  before  was  nothing, 
as  crowds  spring  from  the  paving-stones  in  big  cities. 
I suppose  a monkey’s  first  thought  is  self-preservation ; 
his  second  is  undoubtedly  an  insatiable  curiosity. 

We  passed  more  fires,  the  bamboos  crackling  like 
musketry,  interrupted  now  and  again  by  louder  ex- 
plosions. The  echo  thrown  back  from  the  forest  was 
extraordinary,  no  less  than  were  the  sheets  of  flame 
w'hich  leapt  into  the  air  and  sank  down  again 
immediately. 


24  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

I had  a swim  in  the  Shingaw  hka  at  sundown,  which 
refreshed  me  after  a fourteen-mile  march,  and  another 
on  the  following  morning,  when  we  marched  only  ten 
miles;  but  we  were  well  into  the  foot-hills  by  this 
time  and  the  road  was  nowhere  level. 

There  were  plenty  of  jungle  fowl  strutting  about ; 
in  the  early  morning  they  came  out  into  the  open 
a good  deal,  but  though  noisy  they  were  very  wary. 

The  scenery  was  daily  growing  wilder,  and  pouring 
rain  all  through  the  night  of  6th  May  and  half  next 
day,  with  wind  and  lightning,  had  warned  us  to 
hasten  if  we  would  reach  Hpimaw  ahead  of  the 
monsoon. 

A heavy  thunderstorm  by  night  in  the  hill  jungle  is 
an  awesome  sight.  Flashes  follow  each  other  with 
great  rapidity  all  round  the  hills,  like  gun-fire,  and 
peering  through  the  driving  rain  you  see  the  maddened 
trees  suddenly  lit  up,  and  then  blotted  out;  a moment 
later  they  are  lit  up  again,  fainter  this  time,  as  the  flash 
is  farther  away ; then  darkness  again.  Very  faintly 
do  they  show  up  yet  a third  time  within  the  space  of 
a minute — now  the  flash  is  miles  and  miles  away  and 
there  is  no  answering  roll  of  thunder.  But  all  the 
time  the  wind  is  howling  and  the  rain  drumming  on  the 
hard,  leathery  leaves,  till  gradually  the  noise  dies  down 
and  presently  the  stars  are  sparkling  in  a limpid  sky. 

May  8th  was  a day  of  continuous  drizzle.  It  was 
our  last  day  by  the  ’Nmai  hka,  and  we  covered  fifteen 
miles.  On  the  following  day  we  crossed  the  Chipwi 
River,  now  very  low,  and  began  the  ascent  of  the 
Lawkhaung  ridge. 

At  the  head  of  the  Chipwi  valley  is  the  low  Panwa 
Pass  into  China. 


Ttie  Mighty  Mahseer  and  The  Monastery,  Putao  Village,  IIkamti  Plain. 


men 


The  fish  was  one  of  Mr.  P.  M R.  Leonard's  sixty  pounders  eaught  in  the  Mali  fika. 
supporting  it  are  Kachins.  Photo  bv  h.  l.cotiavd,  sq . 

j he  Nam  Hkamti  in  the  foreground.  Photo  by  T.  lime,  ft*?. 


The 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  25 

The  junction  of  the  Chipwi  with  the  ’Nmai  is  one 
of  the  best  mahseer  1 fishing  pools  on  this  road,  which 
abounds  with  famous  spots.  In  every  bungalow  is 
kept  a fishing  record-book  wherein  you  read  entries 
like  the  following,  written  up  by  officers  passing 
through,  or  on  duty  down  the  road : — 

“ April  10th. — Started  fishing  in  the  pool  at  the 
junction  of  the  Chipwi  hka  with  the  ’Nmai.  After 
half-an-hour  hooked  a big  fish,  which  fought  for  twenty 
minutes,  when  he  got  away,  the  line  breaking  on  a rock.” 
Or  again:  “We  began  at  the  lower  rapid  opposite 
the  Tammu  hka  bungalow,  and  hooked  the  first  fish 
in  fifteen  minutes,  with  seventy-five  yards  of  line  out. 
He  fought  hard  at  first,  but  was  landed  and  killed  in 
half-an-hour.  Weight  6 o|-  lbs.” 

The  Lawkhaung  ridge  divides  the  basin  of  the  Chipwi 
hka  from  that  of  the  Ngawchang  hka,  and  is  a separating 
line  between  the  monsoon  forests  of  Burma  and  the  tem- 
perate forests  of  the  mountainous  North-East  Frontier. 

It  was  a stiff  climb  up  to  the  military  police  post  of 
Lawkhaung,  and  we  were  caught  in  a very  heavy  rain- 
storm before  we  got  there;  the  monsoon  was  indeed 
close  behind  us,  dogging  our  footsteps. 

There  is  a considerable  Maru  village  at  Lawkhaung, 
almost  the  first  we  had  seen,  for  they  occupy  spurs  well 
back  from  the  river,  and  are  carefully  hidden ; the  Shans 
of  the  Irrawaddy  valley  we  had  already  left  far  behind. 

The  home  of  the  Marus  is  the  valley  of  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
so  we  scarcely  saw  them  till  we  reached  that  river 
farther  north  in  September. 

Lawkhaung  is  about  4000  feet  above  sea-level,  and 
continuing  the  ascent  next  day,  we  marched  by  a road 
1 Mahseer — the  big  carp,  Barbus  tor , of  Indian  rivers. 


26 


IN  THE  JUNGLE 

cut  in  the  mountain-side  through  the  forest  to  Peopat, 
keeping  from  7000  to  8000  feet  above  sea-level.  The 
vegetation  had  changed  bewilderingly,  and  the  trees, 
with  their  heads  in  the  chill  mist,  wept  softly;  water 
gushed  and  gurgled  down  all  the  scuppers  of  the  moun- 
tain. Gone  were  the  familiar  tattered  sheets  of  the 
banana;  gone  too  the  clumps  of  giant  bamboo,  the  fig- 
trees  and  graceful  palms,  their  place  usurped  by  the 
sturdier  oaks,  magnolias  and  rhododendrons  of  a 
bleaker  clime.  On  the  ground  lay,  spending  their 
fragrance,  the  large  milk-white  corollas  of  a splendid 
rhododendron.  Here  they  had  drifted  like  snowflakes, 
but  we  looked  in  vain  for  any  tree  from  which  they 
might  have  fallen ; had  they  been  wafted  hither  on  the 
breeze,  or  spread  as  a couch  for  some  Diana  of  the 
forest  ? At  last  the  problem  was  solved — the  rhodo- 
dendron was  epiphytic,1  growing  at  great  heights  on  the 
biggest  trees,  generally  quite  invisible  from  below. 

On  the  glistening  purple  slates  of  the  mountain 
runnels,  down  which  slid  thin  streams  of  water,  grew 
violets  and  patches  of  a lovely  primula  (P.  obconica 
var.)  cooled  by  the  spray.  The  latter  has  white  flowers 
with  a canary-yellow  eye,  borne  in  loose  umbels  at  the 
summit  of  long  stems,  which  rise  from  amongst  the 
rough  leaves. 

Emerging  momentarily  from  the  forest  above  Peopat 
— which  name  is  attached  to  nothing  but  a bungalow — 
we  stood  on  the  brink  of  things,  and  spanning  the  in- 
tervening valley  with  a coup  d'czil  saw,  two  stages  distant 
by  road,  the  white  speck  of  Htawgaw  fort  crowning  the 
hill-top,  a lonely  rock  washed  by  a sea  of  forest. 

On  the  1 2th  we  reached  Htawgaw,  descending  two 

1 R.  dendrico/a,  sp.  nov. 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  27 

or  three  thousand  feet  by  a break-neck  path  almost  to 
the  Ngawchang  river,  and  then  climbing  up  again  to  the 
fort,  which,  from  an  altitude  of  6000  feet,  commands  the 
whole  valley. 

Here  the  country  is  drier,  the  vegetation  again 
changing;  for  the  high  Lawkhaung  ridge  takes  the 
first  rush  of  the  monsoon  on  its  southern  face.  Pine- 
trees,  alders  and  bracken  clothe  the  intermediate 
slopes,  and  there  are  bush  rhododendrons  and  Pieris 
with  beaded  spikes  of  milk-white  flowers ; but  the 
vegetation  of  the  deep  valley  is  sub-tropical,  and  of  the 
high  mountains  northern. 

At  Htawgaw  I met  Mr  Lowis  1 of  the  P.W.D.,  who 
had  built  the  Hpimaw  road  3 — he  was  now  engaged  on 
the  fort,  a compact  little  building  of  stone  commanding 
a splendid  view  of  the  Ngawchang  valley  and  the  roads 
to  China  by  the  Hpare  and  Lagwi  passes,  both  under 
10,000  feet;  also  Captain  Enriquez,  in  command  of 
the  Gurkha  military  police.  Lowis  was  going  up  to 
Hpimaw  in  a day  or  two,  so  I waited  for  him. 

Once  more  attention  must  be  drawn  to  the  physical 
barrier  maintained  by  such  a mountain  range  as  the 
Lawkhaung  ridge,  actually  the  watershed  between  two 
big  tributaries  of  the  ’Nmai  hka — the  Chipwi  to  the 
south,  the  Ngawchang  to  the  north — for  after  crossing 
it  we  lost  sight  of  the  Marus.  From  Htawgaw  onwards 
the  valley  is  occupied  by  Lashis  below,  by  Yawyins 
(or  Lisus)  above. 

It  is  three  stages  from  Htawgaw  fort  to  Hpimaw,  the 
road  lying  up  the  valley  of  the  Ngawchang  hka.  For 

1 Mr  C.  C.  Lowis,  C.I.E.,  Public  Works  Department. 

2 Since  this  was  written  a cart-road  has  been  built.  It  follows  a 
different  alignment  between  Seniku  and  Htawgaw,  via  the  Chipwi  valley. 


28  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

the  first  half  of  the  journey  the  valley  is  comparatively 
broad  and  open,  but  after  Lumpung  village  the  river 
gnaws  its  way  through  a fine  gorge,  and  it  was  here  we 
met  with  our  first  cane  suspension  bridge. 

The  main  supporting  cables  of  rattan,  or  climbing 
palm,  which  grows  in  the  jungle,  are  securely  spliced  to 
trees  or  to  a stout  scaffolding  on  either  bank ; loops  of 
cane  connect  the  main  cables  together,  forming  a 
hammock  framework,  like  the  rigging  of  a ship,  and 
the  slender  flooring  is  composed  of  canes  laid  lengthwise 
along  the  bottom.  Thus  in  section  the  bridge  resembles 
the  letter  V,  while  a side  view  of  it  spanning  a broad 
river  is  almost  a U ; and  though  simple  in  idea  and 
doubtless  easily  constructed,  it  is  in  appearance  a 
somewhat  elaborate  structure,  chiefly  owing  to  the 
complicated  supporting  tackle  at  either  end. 

The  bridge,  of  course,  sags  tremendously.  Sliding 
one  foot  cautiously  before  the  other  and  clutching  the 
side  cables  for  support,  you  start  down  a steep  decline  and 
having  reached  the  bottom  in  mid-stream,  made  giddy 
by  the  unrhythmical  swaying  of  the  structure,  and  by 
the  rush  of  water  below,  ascend  the  other.  Thus  in 
fear  and  trembling  the  perilous  passage  is  effected ; 
but,  like  all  such  ordeals,  familiarity  soon  robs  it  of  its 
terrors — the  reality,  too,  is  less  alarming  than  the 
appearance — and  gripping  the  side  cables  with  each 
hand,  one  may  presently  execute  an  exhilarating  pas  seul 
over  mid-river,  springing  to  the  elastic  recoil. 

The  worst  bit  is  always  along  the  naked  spar 
bridging  the  gap  between  the  bank  and  the  beginning 
of  the  hammock,  through  the  gaping  jaws  of  the 
supporting  masts,  where  it  is  too  wide  to  admit  of 
holding  on  to  both  sides  at  once. 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  29 

Very  similar  cane  bridges  built  by  many  different 
tribes  are  met  with  throughout  the  hill  jungles  of  the 
North-East  Frontier  and  Assam  and  in  the  Himalayan 
foot-hills,  at  least  as  far  west  as  Sikkim.  The  Abor 
tubular  cane  bridge  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of 
all. 

From  Htawgaw  fort  the  road  dips  steeply  to  the 
Ngawchang  and  continues  up  the  left  bank,  finally 
crossing  the  river  by  an  excellent  wire  suspension 
bridge  to  the  village  of  Lumpung,  the  first  stage. 
Just  below  Htawgaw  the  Hpare  hka,  up  which  lies 
the  path  to  the  Hpare  and  Lagwi  passes  into  China,  is 
crossed. 

The  valley  is  crowded  with  villages  dotting  the 
terraced  slopes  where  rice  is  grown,  and  above  are 
steep  hills  covered  with  fern  brake  and  crested  with 
dark  pine-trees,  open  to  the  winds. 

On  the  granite  rocks  in  the  river  bed  many  scrubby 
bushes  were  in  flower,  including  a small  wiry  crimson- 
flowered  rhododendron  ( R . indicum ),  now  nearly  over, 
a Pyrus  and  Hypericum  patulum  with  large  golden 
flowers. 

Far  more  remarkable  was  the  number  and  variety 
of  orchids  which  grew  on  the  trees,  especially  on  oaks 
and  alders.  They  were  of  the  most  quaint  and  varied 
description,  more  grotesque  than  beautiful,  and  of  all 
degrees  of  blotchiness  and  colour.  I was  astonished  to 
see  masses  of  Dendrobium  growing  even  on  the  pine- 
trees,  whose  ascetic-looking  branches  seemed  to  afford 
them  neither  water,  refuge  nor  adequate  support. 

The  wayside  rocks  too  were  thatched  with  purple 
and  white  Dendrobium.  Orchids  were  most  abundant 
between  about  3000  and  6000  feet  altitude. 


30  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

On  17th  May,  in  sunny  weather,  we  continued  up 
the  right  bank  of  the  river  a long  stage  of  fifteen  miles 
to  Black  Rock  bungalow,  situated  where  the  Ngawchang 
suddenly  changes  direction  from  south  to  west  and 
enters  the  gorge.  For  miles  the  road  is  cut  out  of  the 
sheer  cliff  face,  overhanging  the  river,  and  it  was  here 
that  during  the  first  expedition  to  Hpimaw,  in  1911- 
1912,  several  hundred  clumsy  Government  mule's  fell, 
or  had  to  be  pushed,  over  the  precipice,  for  they  either 
could  not  or  would  not  advance  and  were  holding 
up  those  behind.  A broader  road  has  been  blasted 
now. 

It  was  only  the  Yun-nan  mules  which  saved  the  first 
Hpimaw  expedition  from  being  an  expensive  farce ; as 
it  was,  comedy  is  the  word. 

From  Black  Rock  bungalow  Hpimaw  fort  is  just 
visible  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  a speck  in  the  moun- 
tainous distance.  On  1 8 th  May  we  crossed  the  Ngaw- 
chang again  by  another  P.W.D.  bridge,  and  entered 
the  fertile  little  Hpimaw  valley,  whose  streams  spread 
out  over  a floor  of  rice-fields,  and  cascade  from  terrace 
to  terrace — the  valley  that  had  been  the  cause  of  so 
much  heart-burning  in  Yun-nan-fu,  and  of  so  much 
irresolution  in  Simla.  It  seemed  an  unattractive  place 
— it  was  raining  now  as  usual — and  an  insignificant, 
to  claim  so  much  attention.  But  it  is  by  such  Tom 
Tiddler’s  grounds  that  empires  stand  or  fall. 

Lashi  women  were  at  work  in  the  paddy  swamps — 
they  did  not  look  a prepossessing  lot. 

Riding  slowly  up  the  winding  valley,  which  narrows 
rapidly,  we  came  to  the  meeting  of  the  waters,  one 
stream  flowing  down  from  the  Feng-shui-Iing,  the  other 
from  the  Hpimaw  Pass. 


IN  THE  JUNGLE  31 

A short  distance  up  the  latter  valley  lay  the  village 
whence  the  armed  might  of  the  Indian  Empire  had 
driven  the  village  pedagogue;  but  the  Government  ol 
India  has  ever  shown  itself  dilatory  and  cowardly  in 
its  dealings  with  the  neighbouring  power  of  China, 
and  astonishingly  ignorant. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  Imperialist  Hertz,1  a real 
driving  force  on  the  spot,  the  mandarins  of  Simla  would 
assuredly  have  been  bluffed  by  the  mandarins  of  Yun- 
nan-seng  over  the  Hpimaw  valley. 

What  a delicious  scene ! The  force  that  had 
cautiously  felt  its  way  for  two  months  from  Burma, 
fearful  of  meeting  resistance,  desperately  resolved, 
advancing  in  battle  formation  into  Hpimaw,  to  be  con- 
fronted after  all  the  rumours  of  war  that  are  so 
prolific  along  the  China  frontier  by  a courteous  old 
Chinese  schoolmaster ! But  the  Chinaman  was  in  no 
hurry.  He  kept  the  staff  waiting  half-an-hour.  At 
last  he  appeared. 

“Now,”  says  the  O.C.,  very  stern,  “you  must 
leave  this  village.” 

“ I shall  be  charmed,”  replies  the  courtly  old  man, 
bowing  as  only  a well-bred  Chinaman  can;  whereupon 
he  packs  his  bedding  and  marches  over  the  Hpimaw 
Pass  back  into  China. 

So  Hpimaw  was  occupied  by  the  British,  immediately 
abandoned,  and  permanently  reoccupied  the  following 
year,  when  the  fort  was  built. 

From  the  meeting  waters,  fringed  with  blue  irises, 
we  climbed  two  thousand  feet  up  the  hill  to  the  fort, 
perched  on  a ridge  overlooking  the  village,  8000  feet 
above  sea-level,  passing  from  spring  almost  into  winter, 
1 Mr  W.  A.  Hertz,  C.S.I.  (see  Chapter  XVIII.). 


32  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

and  were  welcomed  by  the  commandant 1 to  an  excellent 
midday  breakfast. 

And  so  I settled  down  in  the  commandant’s  bungalow 
at  Hpimaw  fort. 

It  was  1 8th  May  of  the  wonderful  year  1914. 

1 Captain  (now  Major)  J.  E.  Cruickshank. 


CHAPTER  II 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

REY  granite,  knotted  and  corrugated,  pleated 


and  crumpled  into  bewildering  tangles,  and 


again  hacked  through  and  through  by  destruc- 


tive storm  waters ; stark  cliffs  of  limestone  overshadow- 
ing the  valleys ; slopes  here  clad  with  rain-drenched 
forest,  elsewhere  so  steep  and  rocky  that  nothing  but 
rank  grass  and  desperate  grapple-rooted  trees  find  foot- 
hold in  the  short  soil ; and  on  a bleak,  windy  shoulder 
where  a spur,  sweeping  down  from  the  crest  of  the 
range,  has  broken  its  back  and  tumbled  away  in  agony 
to  the  deep  valley  of  the  brawling  Ngawchang  hka, 
blocking  the  path  to  China,  stands  Hpimaw  fort.1 

From  the  commandant’s  bungalow  just  below  the 
fort  itself  you  look  across  the  marble-clouded  valley, 
where  invisible  villages  are  snugly  tucked  away  in  the 
folds,  to  the  grey-blue  mountain  ranges  of  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
crowned  by  the  gaunt  mass  of  Imaw  Bum,  white- 
furrowed  where  the  snow-choked  couloirs  spread 
fingerwise  into  the  valley.  Behind  the  bungalow 
the  darkly  forested  slopes  of  the  main  range  rise 
abruptly. 

The  path  to  China  follows  the  spur  from  the  fort, 
climbing  sometimes  steeply,  sometimes  gently,  now 
perched  on  the  crest,  now  slipping  over  and  traversing 
one  or  other  flank. 


1 There  is  no  fort  there  now  ; it  has  been  pulled  down. 
C 33 


34  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

The  day  after  my  arrival  at  the  fort  the  commandant 
and  I set  out  for  the  pass. 

Tearing  our  way  through  thickets  of  silver-leafed 
and  waxen-stemmed  raspberries,  which  cover  the  moun- 
tains in  astonishing  variety,  we  soon  plunged  into  a forest 
of  rhododendron,  laden  with  heavy  trusses  of  crimson, 
scarlet,  pink,  white  and  yellow  flowers,  like  huge 
coloured  balls.  Here  in  the  depth  of  the  jungle  massive- 
stemmed conifers  shoot  upwards  in  all  the  pride  of 
their  great  strength  and,  outstripping  every  rival,  spread 
protecting  arms  over  all  the  forest.  Strapping  smooth- 
trunked trees  from  whose  bases  radiate  thin  upstanding 
buttress  roots  like  planks  on  edge,  bracing  them  for  the 
struggle,  bear  aloft  crowns  of  foliage  like  fighting 
tops ; hideous  ropes  and  ribands  of  crumpled  wood, 
disfigured  with  loathsome-looking  warts,  lie  coiled  like 
snakes  in  the  gloom,  and  shouldering  their  way  rudely 
through  the  dense  foliage,  burst  into  flower  far  over- 
head. Everything  is  bearded  with  moss,  which  has 
felted  the  wooden  pillars  and  hangs  in  delicate  festoons 
from  the  heavy-laden  boughs.  Orchids  cling  to  niches 
in  the  trees,  their  milk-white,  blunt-nosed  roots  creeping 
out  in  all  directions,  flattened  against  the  trunk  like 
scared  lizards  and  probing  ever  moisturewards  into  the 
darkest  crevices.  Ferns  too,  apple-green,  malachite 
and  olive,  with  delicately  cut  fronds,  or  strap-shaped 
and  erect,  help  to  weigh  down  the  groaning  branches 
buried  beneath  alien  vegetation. 

A rank  undergrowth  surges  waist-high  round  the 
trees,  where  pale  green  butterfly  orchids  (Calanthe 
sp.),  ferns  and  Urticacece  contest  the  ground  with 
striped  cuckoo-pint  hiding  beneath  enormous  leaves.1 

1 Ar  'isoema  IVal/ichianurn. 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  35 

Also  let  us  add  this  fact:  these  quaint  chocolate,  pink 
and  green  striped  cuckoo-pints  are  provided  with  lids, 
the  tip  of  the  lid  being  drawn  out  into  a delicate  lash 
which  trails  on  the  ground ; and  the  more  rainy  the 
climate,  the  darker  and  damper  the  forest  wherein  these 
plants  grow,  the  longer  and  slenderer  this  thread.  Of 
what  use  is  this  strange  appendage  ? Is  it  a fishing-line 
hung  over  the  edge  of  the  great  cup  into  the  wilderness 
below  to  catch  something  ? Is  it  a guide  rope  for  guests 
bidden  to  the  cup  ? Is  it,  perhaps,  of  no  use — now — its 
use  long  since  lost,  or  one  of  nature’s  failures,  abandoned? 
Whatever  it  is,  nothing  could  be  more  curious. 

Presently  we  emerged  from  the  dim  forest  into  sun- 
lit meadow  where  grew  mauve  primulas  with  clusters 
of  little  tubular  flo'wers  like  grape  hyacinths  (P.  limnoica). 
Along  the  fringe  of  the  forest  twining  plants  with  ropy 
yellow  stems  scrambled  over  the  trees — here  were 
white  clematis  and  cherry-red  Schizandra  and  fragrant 
honeysuckle.  Far  below,  floating  like  water-lilies  on 
the  sea-green  foliage,  the  milk-washed  flowers  of  a 
magnolia  gleamed. 

But  it  is  the  rhododendrons  which,  chequering  the 
forested  slopes  with  splashes  of  colour,  charm  one  to 
silence,  while  the  heart  seems  to  cry  out  with  delight. 

Here  at  9000  feet  they  are  great  red-barked  trees 
with  tangled  branches,  and  from  the  fat  pointed  buds 
immense  bunches  of  scented  flowers,  thrusting  aside 
the  sticky  scales,  are  pushing  out — it  seems  wonderful 
enough  how  all  these  perfectly  shaped  and  delicately 
coloured  corollas  can  be  packed  away  inside  those 
closely  clasping  scales,  without  injury.  But  here  they 
are  nevertheless,  welling  honey  and  flooding  the  atmos- 
phere with  fragrance,  while  the  bees,  going  mad,  tumble 


36  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

over  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  take  toll  of  the 
passive  blossoms. 

One  species  had  leaves  of  frosted  silver  and  fat 
trusses  of  citron-yellow  flowers,  thus  resembling  R. 

argenteum. 

Here  too  grow  species  of  Schima,  Bucklandia,  oak. 
Ficus,  Acer  and  many  other  trees. 

Up  and  up,  still  climbing  steeply,  at  one  time 
enveloped  in  a forest  of  bamboos  so  thick  that  one 
could  not  see  twenty  yards  into  the  brake,  and  all 
clothed  in  green  moss;  at  another,  out  on  the  open 
ridge  again,  brushing  through  stiff  bunches  of  Pieris, 
like  white  heather.  Far  down  the  steeply  shelving 
hill-side  lies  the  network  of  tree-girt  veins  which 
gather  water  from  ten  thousand  hidden  springs  and, 
overflowing,  fling  it  into  the  pulsing  arteries  roaring 
out  of  sight. 

Grass  and  bracken  grow  on  this  rock-strewn  slope, 
with  bushes  of  blue-washed  Hydrangea,  golden-leafed 
Buddleia  1 and  willow.  Conspicuous  too  were  slender 
trees  of  Ekinanthus,  from  every  twig  of  which  hung 
bunches  of  striped  red  cups.  In  the  long  grass  there 
sprang  up  in  June — it  was  but  May  when  the 
rhododendrons  blotched  the  mountains  with  colour 
— a beautiful  Nomocharis  with  rosy  flowers  speckled 
with  purple  at  the  base,  pink  geranium,  gaudy  louse- 
worts  and  other  flowers. 

Suddenly  in  the  forest  we  came  upon  a shady  bank 
blue  with  the  lovely  Primula  sonchifo/ia  growing 
in  careless  luxury,  as  primroses  do  in  a Kent  copse. 
The  path  was  strewn  with  fallen  corollas,  scattered 
like  jewels.  It  is  a charming  plant,  with  rather  the 
1 B.  limitanea , sp.  nov. 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  37 

habit  of  an  English  primrose,  a hemispherical  umbel 
of  azure-blue  flowers,  each  yellow-eyed,  springing  from 
a thickly  clustered  rosette  of  dark  green  leaves. 

Up  here  it  really  was  still  winter — there  was  snow 
in  one  of  the  gullies. 

And  now  the  cold  air  of  the  pass  itself  chilled  11s, 
while  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind  came  rushing  up 
on  every  side  from  invisible  valleys  the  rain-clouds, 
melting  about  us  as  they  wrapped  round  the  trees, 
twisting  and  whirling  through  the  branches  like  smoke. 

Drip ! Drip ! Drip ! It  was  the  only  sound  which 
greeted  us,  for  the  torrent  was  out  of  earshot  in  the 
depths  below,  and  birds  are  rare  and  subdued  in  these 
gloomy  forests — we  saw  only  some  long-tailed  jays  and 
gaudy  woodpeckers.  Perhaps  even  their  spirits  are 
oppressed  by  the  ceaseless  patter  of  the  rain  and  the 
sour  smell  rising  from  the  sodden  leaves  whence  in  a 
night  spring  strange  and  sickly  speckled  pilei,  spawn 
of  perpetual  twilight. 

A deep  gash  in  the  mountain  ridge — the  pass  itself, 
dipping  steeply  over  into  the  warm  blueness  of  the 
Salween  valley,  across  which  the  sun  shone  brightly 
on  the  wall  of  mountains  opposite,  twenty  miles  away; 
and  across  those  mountains  too,  deep  down  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  rumbled  the  red  Mekong,  another 
warrior  river  of  Tibet. 

We  stood  now  on  the  rim  of  the  Burmese  hinterland, 
looking  into  the  fair  land  of  China,  the  threshold  of 
Yun-nan,  which  means  “Southern  Cloudland.” 

On  the  other  side  a stony  track  leads  steeply  down 
towards  the  Salween.  Mules  might,  with  difficulty,  be 
taken  to  the  top  of  the  pass  on  our  side,  but  it  is  doubtful 
if  they  could  be  taken  into  China ; anyhow,  I never  saw 


38  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

any  cross.  I was  in  the  Salween  valley,  not  far  south 
of  the  Hpimaw  pass,  in  1911.  It  is  inhabited  chiefly 
by  Shans,  and  there  are  no  mule-roads  there. 

The  Hpimaw  pass  is  the  most  southerly  pass  leading 
direct  to  the  Salween  valley  from  Burmese  territory, 
till  that  river  itself  enters  Burma  in  the  far  south. 

Above  the  pass,  which  is  a gap  bitten  out  of  the 
ridge,  bushes  of  crimson-flowered  rhododendron,  grow- 
ing amidst  a wilderness  of  rocks  and  coarse  grass, 
dotted  the  mountain-side. 

The  splash  of  torrents  far  below,  blended  into  one 
continuous  murmur,  came  up  faintly  on  the  breeze,  and 
but  for  the  wind  frisking  in  the  grass  a great  quiet 
brooded  over  these  high  solitudes. 

Gusts  of  dense  cloud  boiled  silently  up  from  the 
white  cauldron  and  shut  out  everything;  its  clammy 
breath  clung  to  us,  and  wetted  us  through,  and  passed 
over,  allowing  another  glimpse  into  the  blue  valley  of 
the  Salween,  while  the  dull  murmur  of  the  torrents 
rose  momentarily  to  a roar,  before  dying  away  into 
silence  again  as  the  next  heavy  curtain  of  vapour  rushed 
up.  And  far  away  in  sunny  China  puffs  of  silver 
cumulus  rested  lightly  on  the  rocky  Mekong  divide. 

Below  the  fort  are  steep  slopes  covered  with  high 
bracken,  where  grow  stately  lilies,  yellow  and  white 
(Lilium  Wallichianum  and  L.  nepalense ),  purple  willow- 
herb,  royal  fern  ( Osmunda  regalis ) and  hundreds  of- 
sticky  wee  sundew  plants,  their  glistening  leaves  out- 
spread to  entrap  flies,  which,  when  entangled,  this 
murderous  little  plant  innocently  sucks  to  death.1 
Here  too  grows  a tall  Hedychium  with  yellow  and 
white  flowers.  But  the  most  lovely  species  of  this 

1 Drosera  pelt  at  a. 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  39 

genus  sends  up  a great  candelabrum  of  cinnabar-red 
flowers.  It  is  found  in  shady  thickets,  but  is  not 
common.  In  the  wet,  shady  gullies,  where  water  is 
ever  dripping,  are  masses  of  brightly  coloured,  glassy- 
stemmed balsam  in  great  variety,  orange,  white  and 
violet.  And  everywhere  grow  trees. 

Standing  on  the  flat  shoulder  of  the  spur  at  sunset, 
looking  down  into  the  vast  pit  of  the  valley  where  the 
Ngawchang  river  flows  wrathfully,  one  could  follow 
the  changeful  air  currents,  traced  in  condensing  and 
dissolving  vapour  as  the  clouds  waxed  and  waned. 

The  rainfall  in  the  low  valleys  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Lawkhaung  range  is  much  heavier  than  it  is  to  the 
north  in  the  Htaw'gaw  and  Hpimaw  valleys,  and  the 
clouds  from  the  Burma  plains  do  not  at  first  easily  pass 
over  that  range,  precipitating  themselves  against  it 
instead. 

Thus  looking  south  to  the  mountain  wall  standing 
up  between  the  Chipwi  and  Ngawchang  rivers  one 
saw  tall  slate-coloured  pillars  of  cloud  with  cauliflower 
tops  mounting  skyward,  then  flinging  off"  grotesquely 
shaped  puffs  which  mounted  still  higher,  and  melted 
away  even  as  they  rose,  in  a vain  endeavour  to  cross 
the  barrier. 

Day  after  day  they  beat  impetuously  against  that 
rocky  shore,  filling  the  air  with  broken  cloud  spray, 
which  rushing  up  on  us,  fell  in  drenching  showers, 
leaving  blue  sky  down  the  valley ; while  to  the  south- 
west those  slate-coloured  pillars  still  towered  over  the 
distant  range  in  ominous  threat,  and  on  the  plains  of 
Burma  the  rain  fell  in  torrents. 

Listen — hardly  a sound  to  be  heard ! It  is  the  hush 
of  a June  night  at  home;  bats,  flitting  by  like  shadow's. 


40  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

pass  and  repass,  a fire-fly  glimmers  against  the  trees  and 
a barking  deer  cries  sharply,  once,  twice,  from  the 
bracken-clad  hill-side.  A few  stars  twinkle  in  the 
blue  vault,  and  the  mountains  are  dimpled  into  fantastic 
forms  by  light  and  shadow.  But  away  behind  that 
barrier  pitiless  drenching  rain. 

Not  that  it  never  rained  at  Hpimaw ! Far  from  it ! 
Rather  was  it  raining  always  in  a persistent,  maddening 
drizzle,  with  breaks  of  a few  days,  or  a week,  now 
and  then. 

It  was  mid -June  when  the  heavy  summer  rains 
began.  Then  the  mountains  were  hidden,  swathed 
in  white  bandages  of  cloud;  the  valley  was  hidden, 
filled  to  the  brim  with  cloud ; and  at  night  dense, 
impenetrable  mists  enveloped  the  whole  world,  it 
seemed.  So  I stood  one  time,  a tiny  atom  on  the 
brink  of  the  last  great  precipice  of  all,  with  the 
waters  roaring  louder  and  louder  all  round  me  as 
the  growing  torrent  lifted  up  its  voice,  and  all  the 
world  weeping  quietly — the  most  melancholy  drip ! 
drip ! drip ! — with  a horrible  inevitableness.  And  I 
struggled  to  tear  aside  the  grey  veil  and  look  out 
upon  the  dangers  which  beset  my  soul  on  every  hand, 
but  could  not ; for  a moment  vague  trees  and  cliffs 
leered  from  the  other  world  like  giants,  and  disap- 
peared silently,  mysteriously,  as  they  had  come,  when 
the  heavy  white  mists  boiled  over  again,  while  I stood 
there  on  the  shoulder  of  the  spur,  peering  into  the 
cauldron  below ; peering  till  my  eyeballs  cracked, 
afraid  to  move,  and  still  could  see  nothing,  so  that  a 
great  fear  was  upon  me,  gripping  me. 

That  was  fever.  But  they  passed,  these  wild  fancies, 
born  of  the  racking  fever  which  came  to  us  all  in  turn. 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  41 

Throughout  those  days  the  rain  poured  through  the 
roof  of  the  bungalow,  and  the  puddles  swelled  to  pools 
on  the  floor.  But  the  rain  passed  too,  and  after  the 
middle  of  June  came  a break. 

Hpimaw  village  lies  scattered  up  the  shelving  valley 
2000  feet  below  the  fort,  and  is  finally  pinched  out  by 
converging  spurs  of  the  main  range. 

There  are  moderate-sized,  grass-thatched  huts  raised 
on  stilts,  with  a deep  porch  in  front,  surrounded  by 
little  fenced-in  patches  of  opium — such  brilliant  colours, 
purple,  dusky  crimson  (the  colour  of  port  wine  when 
the  lamplight  shines  through  it)  and  white ! The 
glaucous  green  poppy  heads  were  being  scratched  now, 
and  fat  tears  of  sticky  fluid  were  oozing  from  the 
wounds  and  rolling  slowly  down  the  side  of  the  globular 
capsule,  ready  to  be  collected.  The  opium  is  used 
locally  as  a prophylactic  against  fever,  not  smoked  as 
in  China,  but  wiped  off  on  a rag,  which  is  then  sucked, 
or  soaked  in  water  to  make  a beverage ! Opium 
pellets  are  also  chewed. 

Little  stony  paths,  sunk  between  hedges  of  raspberry 
and  St  John’s-wort,  by  purling  streams,  lead  from  hut 
to  hut.  By  the  water  are  beds  of  blue  iris  and  Acacia 
trees,  and  in  the  paddy-fields  brilliant  blue  and  gold 
Tradescantia,  with  its  furry  stamens, and  the  arrow-shaped 
leaves  of  Sagittaria,  familiar  to  lovers  of  East  Anglia. 

The  Lashis  are  allied  to  the  Maru,  Chingpaw,  Nung, 
and  others  of  the  Chingpaw  or  Kachin  family  inhabiting 
the  Burmese  hinterland.  There  is  a tradition  that  this 
particular  tribe  originated  as  a cross  between  a China- 
man and  a Maru  woman,  but  however  that  may  be,  there 
is  no  doubt  of  their  close  relationship  to  the  latter. 

They  occupy  the  lower  land  up  the  Ngawchang  hka 


42  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

and  its  tributaries,  their  rivals  the  Yawyins  occupying 
the  dourer  stony  land  above  them;  the  villages  of  the 
latter  are  perched  on  the  hill-tops.  Perhaps  a day 
will  come  when  the  sturdier,  hard-working  Yawyin  will 
drive  out  the  lazy,  opium-ridden  Lashi  from  the  more 
fertile  lands,  even  as  he  himself  was  originally  dis- 
possessed by  the  more  numerous  Lashi. 

The  Chinese  call  the  Lashi  Chca-shan  and  the  Marus 
Lan-su;  both  tribes  are  included  under  the  general 
Chinese  designation,  Hsiao-shan-jen,  which  means  simply, 
“ men  of  the  small  hills  ” ; while  the  Ta-shan-jen , “ men 
of  the  big  hills,”  includes  Kachins,  Yawyins  and  some 
smaller  tribes  living  higher  up.  The  ordinary  Yun-nan 
name  for  the  Kachins  is  Shan-t(ou — i.e.  “ hill-top  ” (men). 
There  is  great  confusion  of  names  in  a region  like  this, 
crowded  with  different  tribes  speaking  totally  different 
languages  and  calling  themselves  by  different  names, 
while  each  in  turn  is  differently  named  by  neighbouring 
tribes.  Moreover,  the  distribution  of  tribes  such  as 
the  Lashi  and  Yawyin  along  the  Burma-China  frontier 
being  discontinuous,  some  living  well  inside  Yun-nan, 
others  far  away  down  in  the  Shan  states  and  Burma, 
they  have  adopted  the  dress,  habits  and  to  some 
extent  language  of  their  dominant  neighbour,  Chinese 
or  Burmese ; thus  we  get  a further  complication  in 
people  of  the  same  tribe  calling  themselves  by  different 
names  in  different  parts  of  the  country. 

All  the  familiar  tribal  names  on  the  North-East 
Frontier,  such  as  Lashi,  Maru,  Kachin  and  Yawyin — 
the  only  ones  we  need  concern  ourselves  with — are 
either  so  used  by  the  majority  of  the  tribes  themselves, 
or  else  are  of  Kachin  or  Chinese  origin.1 

1 See  Appendix  II. 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  43 

I have  mentioned  tribes  as  living  at  distinct  levels, 
one  above  the  other.  The  explanation  is  simple. 

Speaking  generally,  the  valleys  will  be  more  fertile 
and  have  more  cultivable  land  than  the  hills;  they  will 
naturally,  therefore,  be  occupied  in  the  first  instance 
by  the  more  powerful  tribes,  who  will  remain  until 
driven  out. 

Hence  we  would  expect  to  find  that  the  tribes 
occupying  the  valleys  are  the  most  powerful,  while 
those  occupying  the  highest  spurs  are  the  weakest. 

The  once  all-powerful  Shans  originally  occupied  the 
fertile  plains  and  valleys  of  western  Yun-nan,  and  a 
large  part  of  Upper  Burma,  being  gradually  dispossessed 
in  the  former  province  by  the  Chinese;  but  they  still 
occupy  the  Salw'een  valley,  and  much  of  Upper  Burma, 
and  the  question  naturally  arises,  Why  has  not  this 
degenerate  remnant  been  long  since  driven  out  of  the 
fertile  Salween  valley  ? 

The  answer  is,  that  the  Salween  valley  is  extremely 
malarious  and  the  Chinaman  cannot  live  there ; the 
thoroughly  acclimatised  Shans,  on  the  other  hand, 
thrive ; hence  they  are  left  alone.  The  same  argument 
applies  to  other  parts  of  the  North-East  Frontier.  A 
formerly  powerful  tribe  took  possession  of  the  fertile 
lowland  valleys,  and  became  acclimatised  and,  in  spite 
of  degeneration,  is  now  left  in  possession  by  more 
vigorous  tribes,  who  are  relegated  to  the  less  fertile 
but  healthier  hill-tops. 

It  is  said  that  when  the  Lashis  first  came  into  the 
Hpimaw  valley  they  found  the  Yawyins  there  and 
drove  them  out  by  sheer  weight  of  numbers ; however 
that  may  be,  the  Yawyins  are  now  in  a fair  way  to 
drive  out  the  Lashis  in  their  turn. 


44  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

Possibly,  if  we  had  not  occupied  Hpimaw,  Chinese 
from  beyond  the  Salween  valley  would  have  gradually 
come  over  and  squeezed  out  the  Lashis,  or  at  least 
obliterated  them  as  a tribe  in  their  own  inimitable  way, 
by  absorption. 

As  to  the  reputed  origin  of  the  Lashis,  it  is  not 
indeed  a very  romantic  union  anyway — a hard-headed, 
practical  Chinaman  and  a half-wild  Maru  maid  from 
the  jungle.  And  truly  it  is  difficult  to  say  a good 
word  for  the  Lashis. 

The  cynical  callousness  with  which  a well-favoured 
girl — she  was  only  twenty — related  the  following  story 
of  love,  intrigue  and  murder  makes  one’s  blood  run 
cold. 

A man  from  another  village  wished  to  take  her  to 
wife,  she  said,  but  she  refused  the  offer.  Again  and 
again  he  had  asked  her,  and  still  she  refused,  for  she 
had  another  lover.  At  last,  tired  of  importuning  her, 
which  is  not  the  way  of  these  hill  tribes,  the  man 
came  to  her  hut  one  night  and,  tying  her  up,  carried 
her  off,  with  the  help  of  some  friends,  to  his  own 
village. 

When  she  was  untied,  instead  of  simply  running 
away,  she  plotted  revenge,  determined  to  rid  herself 
for  ever  of  this  tedious  lover  whom  she  loathed. 
Therefore  she  tried  to  poison  him,  putting  aconite  in 
his  food,  but  failing  in  this,  and  growing  steadfast  in 
her  resolve,  she  cast  aside  all  subterfuge  and  sought 
surer  means. 

Then  in  the  dead  of  night  she  crept  to  the  sleeping 
form  and  drawing  his  own  dah  from  its  wooden  sheath 
almost  severed  the  hated  head  from  the  trunk  with  a 
ferocious  blow.  The  man  uttered  never  a groan,  but 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  45 

died  as  he  slept,  swimming  in  blood,  and  she  threw  the 
body  from  the  hut.  Next  morning,  she  tells  us,  she 
walked  calmly  to  her  own  village  and  resumed  her 
old  life. 

One  can  picture  the  dreadful  scene  in  the  lonely 
hut — the  moonlight  glistening  on  the  wet  rice-fields  all 
round  and  shining  through  chinks  in  the  mat  wall,  the 
glowing  embers  in  the  square  hearth,  then  the  drawing 
of  the  keen  blade,  the  measured  distance  for  the  stroke, 
the  wrapped  figure  lying  on  the  split  bamboo  floor — 
how  that  floor  must  have  swayed  and  cracked  under 
her  effort — and  the  deep  breathing  of  the  sleeper. 
And  finally  the  flash  in  the  moonlight,  and  the  blow 
dimly  aimed  in  the  gloom,  but  struck  well,  cutting 
through  helpless  flesh  and  bone,  while  the  blood  welled 
out  silently,  staining  the  slippery  bamboo,  the  cold, 
calculating  hand  which  struck  again  and  again  in  blind 
hate,  to  make  certain,  chipping  the  floor. 

“And  what  did  you  do  with  the  corpse?”  she  was 
asked. 

“ I threw  it  outside ; it  was  no  use  in  the  hut.” 

And  she  was  strong  enough  to  have  done  it,  not  a 
doubt  of  that. 

The  unaffected  surprise  of  the  savage  girl  when 
arrested  and  charged  with  murder  because  she  had 
legitimately  rid  herself  of  a man  who  was  repugnant 
to  her  wTould  have  been  comic  in  other  circumstances. 
The  ingenuous  recital  of  her  wrongs,  and  the  awful 
means  adopted  in  order  to  safeguard  her  rights, 
revealed  the  primitive  law-  in  its  ugliest  aspect. 

More  picturesque  in  his  recital  of  love  and  intrigue 
was  the  fort  interpreter,  a wizened  but  agile  old 
Chinaman,  yet  a very  Don  Juan,  who  sometimes  came 


46  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

across  to  the  bungalow  in  the  evenings  to  teach  me 
Burmese. 

His  home  had  been  in  Momien,  now  called  T£eng- 
yueh,  over  the  border  in  the  Yun-nan  mountains,  but 
when  he  was  yet  a little  child,  in  the  long-forgotten 
days  of  the  great  Mohammedan  rebellion,  while  Sultan 
Suliman  ruled  half  a province  by  the  blue  lake  of 
Tali-fu,  the  city  of  T£eng-yueh  had  been  sacked  by 
the  victorious  Panthays,  and  his  house  with  many 
others  burnt  to  the  ground,  so  that  his  mother  was 
forced  to  flee  over  the  mountains  to  Bhamo,  carrying 
him  on  her  back. 

Settled  in  Hsin-kai — that  is.  New  Market,  as  the 
Chinese  inaptly  call  Bhamo — for  this  sleepy  town  on 
the  banks  of  the  mile-broad  Irrawaddy  ill  recalls  the 
bracing  chalk  hills  and  pine  woods  of  Cambridgeshire — 
he  had  grown  to  man’s  estate,  and  when  the  English 
deposed  Thibaw  and  ruled  in  Bhamo  he  returned  to 
his  first  home  to  marry. 

They  are  restless  folk,  these  Chinamen  of  the  far 
west,  and  after  a few  years  of  domestic  life  in 
T£eng-yueh  he  had  come  to  Burma. 

There,  in  old  Bhamo,  he  had  met  his  second  love 
and  married  her — not  that  he  had  grown  weary  of  his 
first,  but  simply  that  business  having  called  him  to 
Burma  it  was  necessary  to  have  a manage  there.  He 
recounted  his  conquests  in  the  field  of  Eros,  and  his 
dull  eyes  glistened.  “I  suppose  you  like  your  Burma 
girl  best,”  I suggested  confidently,  thinking  of  the 
dainty  butterfly  creatures  one  sees  in  that  charming 
land,  but  he  answered  warmly : 

“ No ! Ta-jcn.  My  wife  at  T‘eng-yueh  is  a very 
good  wife.  She  is  always  at  home,  sewing  and  doing 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  47 

the  housework ; she  never  wants  things,  nor  makes 
a fuss.  But  my  Burmese  girl  is  sinfully  vain.  She 
wants  new  silk  ione-gyi  always  and  gold  bangles  more 
numerous  than  Ma-E-Hla  next  door,  and  if  I won’t 
give  them  to  her,  threatens  to  run  away.  She  is  very 
restless  and  expensive,”  he  continued  sadly,  “ and  does 
no  work  in  the  house ; she  wants  to  live  like  a princess.” 
And  the  poor  old  man  sighed. 

That  is  so  like  a Chinaman — always  coldly  practical, 
with  no  room  for  sentiment.  1 

Yet  was  he  not  satisfied  with  his  experiences,  but 
going  to  the  jade  mines,  which  lie  far  away  in  the 
Kachin  hills,  must  needs  take  a third  wife  of  the 
country,  this  time  a Kachin. 

No  great  troubles  seem  to  have  ruffled  their  married 
life  till  he  came  to  Hpimaw,  and  fearful  of  falling 
amongst  even  worse  barbarians — here  he  spat  signi- 
ficantly— wished  to  take  his  latest  wife  with  him. 

But  she  flatly  refused  to  go — for  Hpimaw  is  a foreign 
land,  eighteen  days’  journey  from  the  jade  mines,  and 
so  to  his  chagrin  our  Don  Juan  had  to  make  a settle- 
ment on  her  and  come  away  alone. 

Whether  he  had  since  contracted  any  temporary 
alliances  at  Hpimaw  he  did  not  divulge,  but  he  spoke 
so  disparagingly  of  the  Lashis,  for  whom  he  had  the 
bitterest  contempt,  that  I think  it  unlikely.  Nor  was 
it  tactful  to  inquire  too  closely.  Poor  lonely  old 
man ! He  had  wives  all  over  the  country-side,  but 
they  were  none  of  them  near  him;  and  like  a true 
patriot  he  thought  first  of  his  ancestral  home  in 
T‘eng-yueh ! 

The  Chinaman  has  the  greatest  contempt  for  all  the 
highland  tribesmen  ; but  I sometimes  wondered  whether 


48  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

my  friend  had  contracted  a temporary  alliance  with  a 
Yawyin  maid  in  the  Hpimaw  hills.  They  are  nice- 
looking  girls. 

As  to  the  fort  itself — the  reader  must  not  suppose 
that  a fort  on  the  North-East  Frontier  is  a concrete 
structure  mounting  guns.  How  could  it  be ! Nor  are 
such  defences  required.  It  is  simply  a small  building, 
of  stone  perhaps,  or  of  wood  strengthened  by  walls  of 
brushw'ood  and  grass  sods,  which  will  stop  bullets. 
The  walls  are  loopholed  for  rifle  and  machine-gun  fire, 
and  there  is  an  open  yard  in  the  middle  where,  in  case 
of  an  attack  on  the  post,  the  mules  can  be  tethered, 
and  any  extra  people  taken  inside  the  fort. 

Such  frontier  forts  are  always  built  on  prominent 
spurs,  well  away  from  villages,  commanding  a pass  or 
road,  the  first  object  being  to  secure  a clear  field  of 
fire,  jungle  being  felled  and,  if  necessary,  hill-sides  cut 
away  to  ensure  this. 

In  the  event  of  trouble  on  the  frontier  they  are  the 
refuge  for  everybody  in  the  post,  civil  and  military, 
and  it  then  devolves  upon  the  garrison  to  hold  the  fort, 
and  if  possible  the  road,  till  help  can  arrive — which 
may  be  a matter  of  days.  The  garrison  of  Hpimaw 
was  then  about  half  a company  (ioo  men),  with  a 
couple  of  machine  guns. 

These  forts,  though  fulfilling  their  object,  are 
naturally  more  imposing  than  alarming ; they  are  quite 
strong  enough  to  withstand  such  troubles  as  brew  on 
this  frontier,  and  are  meant  neither  for  war  on  the 
European  scale,  which  is  obviously  impossible  in  such 
a country,  nor  for  prolonged  resistance.  They  would 
act  as  centres  of  resistance  against  the  rebellions  and 
sudden  outburst  which  from  time  to  time  flash  up  on 


LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT  49 

our  Indian  frontiers,  and  die  away  as  suddenly  and 
mysteriously  as  comets  come  out  of  the  unknown  and 
disappear  whence  they  came.  They  also  sene  to 
impress  and  overawe  the  more  truculent  tribesmen — to 
prevent  rather  than  to  meet  trouble. 

As  regards  food  we  were  quite  comfortably  situated, 
for  though  we  could  procure  little  in  the  Hpimaw 
valley  itself,  yet,  owing  to  our  proximity  to  the  fertile 
regions  of  Yun-nan,  it  was  a simple  matter  to  send  men 
over  the  pass  for  fowls,  eggs,  rice  and  potatoes.  In 
fine  weather  Chinamen  used  to  come  over  w ith  supplies 
for  sale,  but  in  the  summer  they  came  more  rarely,  and 
then  1 would  from  time  to  time  send  a couple  of  Lashis 
across  w ith  orders  to  get  what  they  could ; and  after 
a week’s  absence  they  would  return  with  perhaps  a 
hundred  eggs  and  a dozen  fowls,  bought  for  a few' 
rupees. 

Eggs  seemed  to  keep  indefinitely  at  Hpimaw — 
certainly  I often  kept  them  ten  days  or  a fortnight, 
only  a small  percentage  going  bad ; and  they  may  have 
been  ancient  to  start  with. 

So  hard  up  is  the  North-East  Frontier  for  food,  the 
villages  even  in  the  most  favoured  districts  raising  barely 
enough  for  their  own  subsistence,  that  my  Lashi 
collectors  always  asked  me  to  supply  them  with  rice. 
It  may  be  remarked  here  that  the  Hpimaw  valley  and 
the  Hkamti  plain  are  the  only  places  in  the  whole  vast 
area  of  the  Burmese  hinterland  where  lowland  paddy 
can  be  grown.  Elsewhere  mountain  rice,  buckwheat 
and  maize  are  universally  cultivated. 

We  kept  a number  of  fowls  at  the  fort,  but  they 
were  sadly  decimated  from  time  to  time  by  wild- 
cats, eagles  and  perhaps  owls,  though  it  may  be 


50  LIFE  AT  A FRONTIER  FORT 

that  the  alleged  wild  cats  sometimes  had  only  two 
legs. 

Jungle  rats  were  another  pest;  they  swarmed  into 
our  store-rooms  at  night,  and  got  at  anything  that  was 
not  tightly  shut  up  in  a tin,  sometimes  even  opening 
biscuit  tins  by  pushing  them  off  the  shelf  on  to  the  floor. 
They  were  wily  too,  and  would  not  look  at  traps  or 
poison,  however  carefully  concealed ; they  really  seemed 
to  reason  on  such  matters. 

The  fort  commandant  also  kept  up  a garden,  of 
which  he  was  pardonably  proud,  cut  out  of  the  steep 
side  of  the  khud ; and  from  this  garden  he  supplied  our 
table  with  excellent  cabbages,  radishes,  cauliflowers, 
globe  artichokes  and  other  succulent  vegetables,  all 
raised  from  seed.  They  really  did  very  well  consider- 
ing the  vileness  of  the  climate — or  perhaps  because  of 
it,  for  did  it  not  in  some  ways  resemble  the  English 
climate  ? 

From  time  to  time  the  fort  commandant  went  on  tour 
and  I was  left  alone.  These  tours,  lasting  anything  from 
a week  to  a fortnight,  were  confined  to  such  paths  as 
existed,  while  my  goal  was  rather  off  those  paths  into 
the  remoter  mountains. 

But  in  the  first  week  of  June  I decided  to  accompany 
him  on  a trip  to  the  Feng-shui-ling,  a pass  into  China 
south  of  Hpimaw,  of  which  he  spoke  enthusiastically. 

And  an  account  of  that  journey  deserves  a chapter  to 
itself. 


CHAPTER  III 


THE  FOREST  OF  WINDS  AND  WATERS 

ON  a fine  June  morning  we  set  out  for  the 
Feng-shui-ling,  going  straight  down  the  pre- 
cipitous hill-side  below  the  fort,  through  tall 
bracken,  2000  feet  to  a stream,  and  then  up  a narrow- 
ing valley;  but  the  mules  had  to  keep  to  the  road. 

It  was  rather  lucky  for  me  that  the  commandant  had 
some  mules,  as  it  was  difficult  to  get  Lashi  porters  now, 
this  being  just  the  time  when  they  were  busy  planting 
their  taungya  1 ; and  though  that  is  really  the  women’s 
job,  the  men  also  have  plenty  to  do  for  a short  time. 

These  taungya  are  simply  hill-sides  cleared  of  jungle. 
The  jungle  is  cut  after  the  rains  and  lies  for  a few 
months.  About  March,  when  it  is  fairly  dry,  it  is  set 
on  fire  and  the  undergrowth  burnt  out;  but  the 
stumps  and  big  tree  trunks  are  only  charred,  and  the 
latter  lie  about  in  all  directions,  making  progress  across 
a steep  taungya  extremely  arduous.  In  the  spring  the 
maize  is  dibbled  into  the  soil,  and  ripens  in  the 
autumn. 

After  the  first  year  the  soil  is  exhausted  and  the 
taungya  abandoned  to  the  jungle  which  quickly  springs 
up,  covering  the  place  with  a dense  tangle  of  herbs 
and  bushes,  amongst  which  small  trees  soon  begin  to 
appear;  while  a new  taungya  is  cleared  elsewhere — a 
complete  change  of  soil  instead  of  a rotation  of  crops. 

1 Taungya — a Burmese  word,  meaning  unirrigated  hill-side  cultivation. 

51 


52  THE  FOREST  OF 

It  is  obviously  a very  wasteful  method  of  cultivation, 
but  one  well  suited  to  such  a country. 

Down  here  the  air  was  clammy  and  oppressive,  but 
the  water  clear  and  cool.  Strapping  leafy  herbs 
clothed  the  banks,  with  beds  of  yellow  monkey-flower 
(Mimulus  nepalensis ) and  purple-spotted  bugle  and 
balsams. 

Certain  species  of  the  last-named  have  curiously 
swollen  nodes,  like  glass  beads,  in  each  of  which  I 
found  a tiny  grub;  these  swellings  occur  only  at  the 
points  where  the  leaves  spring  from  the  stem — that  is, 
at  the  nodes. 

The  path,  though  steep,  and  in  the  forest  muddy, 
presented  no  difficulty  to  the  mules;  and  early  in  the 
afternoon,  after  crossing  a low  pass,  we  emerged  into  an 
open  bracken-clad  meadow  and  camped  by  the  stream. 

Nor  far  distant,  where  a boisterous  torrent  rushed 
down  from  the  mountains  and  disappeared  into  a gorge, 
stood  a small  village  occupied  by  half-a-dozen  Minchia 
families  from  Li-kiang,  in  Yun-nan. 

As  usual  in  these  open  sunny  spaces  we  were 
attended  by  swarms  of  persistent  blood-sucking  flies 
— horse-flies,  blood-blister  flies  and  sand-flies,  against 
which  there  is  no  sovereign  remedy ; one  must  resign 
oneself  to  their  attentions  and  forget  the  irritation  in 
other  interests. 

The  blood-blister  flies  in  particular  are  pernicious 
insects,  rather  smaller  than  the  common  house-fly, 
yellow  and  black  like  a wasp.  Their  bite  raises  a 
blood  blister  the  size  of  a pin’s  head,  which  irritates 
for  a long  time,  though  relief  is  obtained  by  pricking 
it  and  letting  out  the  fluid.  The  bare  legs  and  arms  of 
the  natives  are  speckled  with  small  black  dots,  caused 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  53 

by  the  punctures  of  this  fly.  No  doubt  the  blister- 
fly,  like  the  mosquito,  carries  one  of  the  many  forms  of 
fever  suffered  in  these  parts. 

Along  the  stream-side  several  kinds  of  raspberry 
bore  fruit,  but  many  of  them  were  more  striking  for 
their  handsome  foliage  or  habit,  or  for  the  soft  bloom 
of  wax  which  whitened  their  smooth  stems,  than  for  the 
merit  of  their  fruit ; yet  some  too  urere  luscious,  and 
I sent  home  seed  of  all  the  Rubi  1 could  find,  as  it  is 
a genus  well  worth  study,  and  no  doubt  capable  of 
great  things  under  cultivation.  They  seem  to  prefer 
granite  to  limestone — nearly  all  I found  were  growing 
on  granite. 

There  was  a shrub  growing  here  nearly  every  leaf 
of  which  bore  a small  rosy  spike  on  the  upper  surface, 
somewhat  resembling  a looper  caterpillar  standing  up; 
each  spike,  which  was  hollow  and  entered  from  the 
under  surface  of  the  leaf,  contained  a small  insect,  the 
originator  of  the  disfigurement — as  it  was  from  the 
leaf’s  point  of  view.  The  resemblance  to  a caterpillar 
was  really  striking,  but  otherwise  there  was  nothing 
to  distinguish  the  sick  leaf  from  a dozen  similarly 
disfigured  met  with  in  England. 

With  sunset  came  a relief  from  the  dripping  heat, 
but  an  immense  halo  round  the  moon  presaged  rain  on 
the  morrow. 

In  order  to  allow  ample  daylight  for  settling  into 
camp,  it  was  our  habit  to  start  early,  make  a single 
march  and  halt  finally  about  two  o’clock.  Conse- 
quently we  were  up  at  five  o’clock  and,  after  a quick 
meal,  away  into  the  forest  at  an  hour  when  most  folks 
at  home  are  coming  down  to  breakfast. 

Our  path  lay  up  the  big  torrent  in  rich,  yet  not 


54  THE  FOREST  OF 

dense,  forest  throughout,  for  there  was  no  bamboo 
brake  to  choke  it  here.  Ferns,  orchids  and  strange 
cuckoo-pints  carpeted  the  ground,  or  hung  from  trees, 
with  sometimes  blue  iris  and  giant  lilies  in  open  dells. 
But  trees  and  shrubs  were  in  greatest  variety,  including 
several  rhododendrons,  one  with  white  flowers  smelling 
sweetly  of  nutmeg  ( R . megacalyx , sp.  nov.)  ; another, 
and  this,  as  previously  related,  a small  shrub,  always 
growing  epiphytically  high  up  on  big  trees,  whose 
large  white  flowers,  blotched  with  lemon-yellow  at 
the  base,  were  the  sweetest  scented  in  the  world 
(R.  dendricolci). 

There  were  also  Deutzia,  smothered  in  soft  pink 
blossom  like  Japanese  silk,  and  ropes  of  snowy-white 
clematis  hanging  over  the  bushes.  The  lovely  Lucidia 
gratissima  also  flourished  here. 

In  the  gloomiest  depths  of  the  forest  we  came  upon 
a primula,  since  called  P.  seclusa , which  from  a cluster 
of  large  rugged  dark  green  leaves  sends  up  tall  scapes 
bearing  several  tiers  of  crimson  flowers. 

At  one  place  in  the  forest  there  was  a clay  bank 
overhanging  a stream — we  were  crossing  a high  spur 
at  the  time  and  must  have  been  nearly  9000  feet  up 
then — covered  with  a mosaic  of  rough-leafed  primulas 
bearing  umbels  of  little  cups  filled  with  seed.  They 
were  allied  to  P.  sonch  folia,  and,  like  it,  blue-flowered, 
the  commandant  told  me;  he  had  seen  them  in  bloom 
as  early  as  February,  when  snow  still  lay  on  the  ground. 
One  could  imagine  what  that  bank  looked  like,  sheeted 
with  blue  while  the  sluggish  forest  was  still  half  asleep 
under  its  snowy  blanket,  and  every  stream  tumbling 
and  frothing  down  its  muddy  channel  as  the  gleaming 
ice  melted. 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  55 

Here  too  flourished  Bcesia  cor  data,  a novel  genus  of 
Ranunculaceae. 

Immense  trees  towered  all  round  us.  Some  were 
draped  with  long  streamers  of  moss,  others  richly 
covered  with  ferns  and  orchids ; a few  supported  small 
bushes  of  the  most  fragrant  rhododendrons,  whose 
handsome  corollas  dappled  the  ground. 

Having  made  good  progress  through  the  forest, 
wre  camped  at  a spot  selected  by  the  Lashis  who 
had  been  sent  on  ahead  to  clear  the  track  — a 
small  knoll  overlooking  the  now  shrunken  stream. 
Emerging  next  day  from  an  oak  forest  interspersed 
with  rhododendrons  and  holly,  we  reached  a big 
stream,  its  banks  so  thickly  overgrown  with  bamboo 
that  we  had  to  wade  knee-deep  through  the  chilly 
water  of  the  stream  itself.  The  mules  enjoyed 

this,  splashing  lustily,  and  when  the  sun  broke 
through  the  clouds,  and  sparkled  on  the  chattering 
water,  it  was  delightful,  save  for  the  leeches  which 
we  collected. 

Paddling  thus  slowly  up  the  stream,  we  came  from 
time  to  time  into  the  most  enchanting  meads,  where 
the  little  valley  broadened.  Here  the  grass  was  purple 
with  Primula  Beesiana , and  the  shallow  waters  dotted 
with  tall  yellow  cowslips,  'which  were  not  cowslips  in 
fact,  but  Primula  helodoxa , growing  on  the  banks,  on 
gravel  islands,  on  fallen  tree  trunks,  in  careless  pro- 
fusion. And  there  were  flowering  bushes  all  round 
us  instead  of  forest,  thickets  of  buckthorn  and  rose, 
wayfaring-tree,  barberry  and  honeysuckle,  amongst 
which  sprang  up  white  lilies,  tall  as  grenadiers 
(Z.  giganteum),  marsh  marigolds  and  grasping  coils  of 
yellow-flowered  Codonopsis,  sunning  itself  as  it  sprawled 


56  THE  FOREST  OF 

carelessly  over  the  surrounding  plants  like  a rich 
exquisite. 

Most  lovely  of  all,  hiding  shyly  within  the  dark 
bamboo  groves,  was  a meadow-rue,  its  large  white 
flowers  borne  singly,  half  nodding  amongst  the  maiden- 
hair leaves,  so  that  in  the  gloom  of  the  brake  they 
looked  like  snowflakes  floating  through  a forest  of 
ferns.  I called  it  the  snowflake  meadow-rue — there  is 
none  more  beautiful. 

“ Why,  what  a paradise  of  flowers ! ” I said  to  my 
companion.  “ Who  would  have  thought  that  these 
sorrowful  mountains  and  dim,  dripping  forests  held  such 
treasures  ! ” 

“It  is  pretty,”  he  replied.  “I  thought  you  might 
find  something  interesting  at  the  Feng-shui-ling.” 

“ Fen-shui-ling ! Is  that  what  they  call  it  ? Why, 
that  may  well  mean  ‘ the  pass  of  the  winds  and  waters.’ 1 
Certainly  there  is  water  enough  ” (we  were  still  pad- 
dling up-stream).  “ Better  did  they  call  it  ‘ Hua-shui-lin’ 
— the  forest  of  flowers  and  waters.” 

It  was  indeed  a watery  valley,  full  of  wet  meadows, 
rank  forest  and  rushing  streams. 

After  a mile  or  two  we  left  the  water  and  broke 
through  the  bamboo  lining  by  a muddy  path  which 
ascended  sharply  to  an  open  meadow,  and  here  we 
camped  amidst  the  flowers.  Close  around  us  on  every 
side  rose  densely  wooded  mountains  which  poured  ten 
thousand  tributary  rills  down  into  the  bamboo-choked 
streams ; and  I wondered  how  we  should  get  back 
here  in  August  when  the  waters  rose  in  flood.  Not 

1 It  is  impossible  to  tell  from  the  sound  of  Chinese  words  what  they 
mean,  60  many  different  words  having  the  same  sound.  But  the 
written  characters  at  once  distinguish  them. 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  57 

far  above  us  a bare  limestone  cliff  overhung  the 
pass. 

It  had  taken  us  only  three  hours,  travelling  slowly, 
to  reach  this  spot — altitude  about  8000  feet — and  after 
lunch  we  set  out  to  climb  the  last  1000  feet  to  the  pass. 

Crossing  several  swamps,  where  yellow  primulas 
clustered,  we  entered  forest  again,  ascending  steeply  by 
an  execrable  path.  A big  rhododendron  with  enormous 
leaves  ( R . sino-grande ) and  a giant  conifer  1 were  con- 
spicuous trees  here,  and,  as  usual,  there  was  a hanging 
garden  between  earth  and  sky,  chiefly  of  a lovely  white 
orchid.  An  Aristolochia  with  quaintly  bent  yellow 
flowers  like  a Dutchman’s  pipe  lolled  over  a bush. 
Presently  we  met  a party  of  Yawyins  from  China, 
amongst  whom  was  a remarkably  pretty  little  girl ; but 
they  were  very  shy. 

The  summit  of  the  pass  is  flat,  overshadowed  by  the 
high  cliff  seen  from  below,  which  rears  itself  straight 
up  from  a bog  at  its  foot.  Many  plants  were  coming 
on  here,  but  there  was  scarcely  anything  in  flower  yet, 
and  I waded  through  it  with  an  eye  open  for  snakes,  of 
which  we  had  seen  several  venomous-looking  ones  in 
the  marshes  round  our  camp. 

The  path  down  the  other  side  leads  to  Ming-kuan, 
a fertile  and  populous  valley  north  of  T‘eng-yueh,  at 
the  source  of  the  Shweli  river  in  Yun-nan.  Again  we 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  Burmese  hinterland  looking 
into  the  fair  land  of  China. 

It  is  by  this  route  that  the  coolies  carry  the  coffin 
planks  from  the  upper  Ngawchang  valley  to  Yun-nan 
(see  Chapter  VII.). 

The  Feng-shui-ling,  though  immediately  south  of 
1 Pseudotsuga  sp. 


5b  the  forest  of 

Hpimaw,  is  not,  as  a matter  of  fact,  on  the  main  water- 
shed, which  throws  off"  a long  spur  here ; from  the 
angle  formed  by  this  spur  with  the  main  divide  rises 
the  Shweli,  a big  tributary  of  the  Irrawaddy.  Descend- 
ing into  China  from  the  Feng-shui-ling,  the  traveller, 
after  crossing  the  western  branch  of  the  Shweli,  finds 
a range  of  hills  between  him  and  the  eastern  branch  of 
that  river,  and  then  a range  of  high  mountains,  the 
main  divide  in  fact,  between  the  eastern  branch  of  the 
Shweli  and  the  Salween. 

The  Shweli  thus  divides  into  two  branches,  exactly 
as  does  the  Irrawaddy. 

Returning  to  camp,  we  found  that  the  orderly  had 
bagged  a brace  of  bamboo  partridge  for  dinner,  while 
the  servants  had  collected  a basketful  of  deliciously 
flavoured  little  strawberries  1 for  our  tea.  The  meadow 
in  which  we  were  camped — an  irregular-shaped  knoll 
with  outcrops  of  bush-clad  rocks,  saved  only  by  its  slight 
elevation  from  being  a marsh — was  indeed  studded  with 
this  fruit,  offering  us  an  ample  supply  daily. 

There  is  plenty  of  game  in  these  forests,  but  the 
jungle  is  too  thick  for  shikar  ing,  at  least  in  the  summer, 
and  conditions  are  all  against  it.  Tree  bear  used  to 
come  in  quite  close  to  the  fort  sometimes,  and  there 
were  plenty  of  barking  deer  about.  Serow  are  not 
rare  either.  Early  winter  would  probably  be  the  best 
time,  when  the  leaves  are  off"  some  of  the  trees  and  the 
weather  set  fine  for  a month  or  two. 

As  at  all  moderate  elevations  on  the  North-East 
Frontier,  insect  pests  were  legion — here  it  was  the 

1 Two  species  of  Fragaria  are  found  here.  One  has  scarlet  fruit, 
almost  tasteless,  the  other,  F.  nhitgarcnscs , has  white  sweetly  flavoured 
fruit. 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  59 

common  fly  and  the  horse-fly  by  day,  and  the  inevitable 
sand-fly  by  night.  Add  to  these  the  onslaught  of 
ticks  and  leeches  as  soon  as  one  stirred  out  of  camp, 
and  it  will  be  realised  that  there  are  very  real  dis- 
comforts to  be  faced  on  the  North-East  Frontier  during 
the  rainy  summer  months.  Two  days  spent  here 
enabled  me  to  climb  one  of  the  surrounding  limestone 
peaks  which  reared  its  head  almost  directly  above  us, 
so  near  that  from  its  summit  it  seemed  one  might  toss 
a pebble  amongst  the  tents,  yet  separated  by  a deep 
belt  of  that  accursed  bamboo  brake,  through  which  it 
was  necessary  to  find  a passage. 

At  the  first  attempt  I charged  boldly  into  the 
obstacle,  but  after  getting  covered  with  leeches,  which 
crept  into  my  boots  and  lodged  in  my  hair,  I ac- 
complished nothing ; for  losing  my  bearings  as  1 crawled 
this  way  and  that,  I eventually  surmounted  the  brake, 
only  to  climb — the  wrong  peak  ! 

But  at  the  second  attempt,  my  route  being  more 
carefully  worked  out  beforehand,  I crossed  the  belt 
of  bamboo  without  difficulty  and  found  myself  on  the 
flanks  of  the  mountain. 

Thence  to  the  summit  was  easy  going,  for  on  the 
steeper  slopes  the  undergrowth  wras  no  hindrance,  the 
forest  being  open.  One  face  of  the  mountain  com- 
prised a step-like  series  of  precipices,  separated  by 
narrow’  tree-clad  ledges,  along  which  it  w'as  possible 
to  scramble;  and  in  these  mossy  nooks  grew  many 
interesting  plants,  including  Primula  fragilis,  Androsace 
axillaris  and  a grotesque  chocolate-red  slipper  orchid 
(Cypripedium  sp.),  springing  stemless  from  between 
a pair  of  broad  heart-shaped  glistening  leaves  wffiich 
hugged  the  ground. 


60  THE  FOREST  OF 

It  was  a Dwarf  in  stature,  it  w^as  full-grown  in 
the  size  of  its  leaves  and  flowers,  appearing,  there- 
fore, deformed.  Towards  the  top  of  the  peak  w'ere 
small  rhododendron-trees  massed  with  white  flowers 
of  large  size,  and  the  summit  itself  was  covered  wdth 
compact  wiry  shrubs,  amongst  w^hich  I noticed  species 
of  Cotoneaster,  yellow  jasmine  and  Weigelia. 

I got  back  to  camp  drenched  and  tired ; but  the 
Lashis  were  happy  as  ever,  sitting  in  camp  combing 
out  their  black  locks,  with  great  deliberation — a 
favourite  and  superior  performance  of  theirs,  evidently 
learnt  from  the  Chinese. 

I was  itching  all  over  from  leech  bites  that  night, 
and  though  we  warned  off*  the  sand-flies  to  some 
extent  with  a cigarette  smoke  screen,  it  was  long 
before  sleep  came,  and  then  it  w^as  but  an  uneasy 
slumber. 

Starting  homewards  next  day,  we  soon  reached 
our  first  forest  camp.  Outside  in  the  meadow'  was 
bright  sunshine,  but  only  a ray  here  and  there  pierced 
the  foliage  to  greet  us. 

June  9th  too  was  a sunny  day,  and  we  travelled 
slowly,  as  I wanted  to  collect  seed  of  the  early  flowering 
primulas  which  covered  the  clay  bank.  We  found 
a glorious  crimson  rhododendron 1 in  full  bloom,  and 
the  “nutmeg”  rhododendron  scented  the  path  writh 
its  delicate  fragrance. 

Arrived  at  the  Minchia  village,  we  w'ere  soon  visited 
in  camp  by  our  Chinese  friends,  and  later  I w^ent  with 
them  to  see  w^hat  I could  buy,  returning  with  a goat 
(price,  three  rupees  twelve  annas)  and  a side  of  bacon 
(price,  three  rupees). 

1 R.facetum,  sp.  nov. 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  61 

A woman  who  was  amongst  the  visitors  wore  a pair 
of  those  tasselled  silver  earrings  that  you  see  in  parts 
of  Yun-nan,  which  caused  the  commandant  to  break 
the  Tenth  Commandment.  He  asked  me  to  open 
negotiations  with  the  good  lady,  and  thereupon  began 
one  of  those  interminable  discussions  in  which  the 
Chinese,  so  expert,  revel ; not,  it  would  seem,  solely 
with  the  idea  of  scoring  off  a rival,  since  John  will  sell 
you  an  article  for  three  ounces  of  silver,  after  pro- 
longed argument,  which  he  would  not  think  of  parting 
with  for  taels 1 3’io  before  you  had  discussed  the 
weather;  presumably  then,  partly  for  the  sheer  love 
of  argument. 

Of  course  I was  no  match  for  the  matron  with  the 
earrings,  but  I played  the  game  as  it  is  played  in  China. 

“ That’s  pretty ! ” I said,  fingering  the  bauble. 
“Where  did  you  get  it?” 

“In  Li-kiang,  ta-jen .” 

“ Li-kiang ! I know  Li-kiang.  I was  there  last  year 
for  the  great  fair  at  the  temple  of  the  water  dragon.” 

It  is  considered  diplomatic  in  negotiations  of  this 
sort  not  to  talk  of  the  matter  in  hand ; you  refer 
to  it  casually  later,  as  a postscript.  Europeans  have 
earned  an  unenviable  reputation  for  bluntness  with 
polite  Chinamen,  owing  to  their  fatal  habit  of  coming 
straight  to  the  point.  We  talk  “all  of  a heap,”  as 
the  mandarins  say. 

“ Ah  yes ! many  people  come  to  the  fair  from  all 
parts.” 

“ Even  so  ! I bought  a horse  from  a Tibetan  there 
for  Tls.  40.  Do  you  want  to  sell  these  earrings?” 

1 A tael,  written  Tl.,  is  a Chinese  ounce  of  silver.  In  the  interior 
of  China  lump  silver  is  weighed  out  in  payment  for  things. 


62  THE  FOREST  OF 

“These?  I will  sell  this  bangle  for  four  rupees.” 

“ I do  not  want  the  bangle,  and  I have  not  got  four 
rupees.  It  is  a pretty  bangle  nevertheless,  and  I will 
give  you  three  rupees.  How  much  did  you  say  for  the 
earrings  ? ” 

“ Four  rupees” — taking  one  off. 

“ It  is  too  much.  I am  a poor  man,  but  I will  give 
you  two.  Why  did  you  leave  Li-kiang?” 

“ It  was  arranged  that  I was  to  marry  a neighbour, 
according  to  Chinese  custom.  But  I ran  away  from 
home  with  my  lover,  and  we  came  to  Ming-kuan. 
When  the  soldiers  came  to  Ming-kuan,  at  the  time 
of  the  great  rising  during  the  ninth  moon  three 
years  ago,  we  crossed  the  mountains  and  settled 
here,  under  protection  of  the  English.” 

“ China  is  a beautiful  country.  The  Chinese  are 
peaceful,  but  the  soldiers  are  wicked  men.  Next 
year,  at  the  time  of  the  grain  rain  [April],  I shall 
return  to  Li-kiang.  How  much  did  you  say  for  the 
earrings  ? ” 

“ Ta-jen  is  a Government  official,  therefore  he  is 
rich.  You  shall  have  them  for  three  and  a half 
rupees.” 

“ Only  Chinese  Government  officials  are  rich.  Let 
me  see  the  earrings.  They  are  not  very  good,  and 
I will  not  buy  them.  I have  travelled  all  over  China — 
it  is  a beautiful  country.” 

“ Food  is  cheap  there.  How  much  will  ta-jen  give 
for  the  earrings?” 

“I  will  give  two  rupees  for  the  bangle.” 

“No,  the  earrings — how  much,  ta-jen ?” 

“ I do  not  want  them,  but  I will  give  two  rupees.” 

“ Take  them,  ta-jen ; three  rupees.” 


WINDS  AND  WATERS  63 

“ All  right,  two  rupees  eight  annas — it  is  very  dear, 
but  what  does  it  matter ! ” 

After  that  transaction  was  disposed  of  the  commer- 
cial spirit  became  contagious,  and  people  drifted  into 
camp  with  all  sorts  of  ridiculous  articles  for  sale, 
including  their  clothes  and  bedding. 

The  idea  was  abroad  that  we  were  prepared  to 
purchase  the  entire  village,  and  the  simple  folk  would, 
I believe,  readily  have  parted  with  most  of  it  in 
exchange  for  our  bright  rupees.  As  I had  played 
the  distinguished  role  of  middleman  in  such  business 
as  was  transacted — and  no  business,  from  a marriage 
to  a railway  contract,  is  ever  conducted  in  China  with- 
out that  important  functionary — the  village  headman 
sent  me  round  a stone  bottle  of  that  fiery  and  inebriat- 
ing Chinese  wine  called  hsiao-chiu ,*  made  from  rice, 
which  both  looks  and  tastes  like  methylated  spirit,  and 
having,  as  in  duty  bound,  tasted  it,  I passed  it  on  to  the 
men,  with  a note  of  warning. 

It  being  the  night  of  the  full  moon,  a woman  whose 
husband  had  died  a few  months  previously  was 
sacrificing  a small  porker  and  visiting  the  grave,  for 
it  is  the  Chinese  custom,  on  the  1st  and  15th  of  the 
moon,  to  visit  the  graves  of  the  departed  and  send 
imaginary  remittances  of  silver  and  the  commodities 
of  this  world  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  spirit  world. 

By  morning  all  our  bread  had  turned  bright  green, 
and  it  was  evident  that  the  rains  were  approaching. 
The  added  burden  of  a continuous  high  temperature 
to  places  which  have  a summer  rainfall  of  eighty  or 
ninety  inches,  as  in  many  parts  of  Burma,  favours  a 
luxuriant  growth  of  mould  on  articles  such  as  boots, 

1 Hsiao-chiu — literally  “ small  wine,”  as  we  should  say  small  beer. 


64  FOREST  OF  WINDS  AND  WATERS 

bread,  books  and  other  things,  while  such  articles  as 
are  in  some  measure  stuck  together — cameras,  for 
instance,  and  again  books — become  unstuck. 

It  was  a hot  march  back,  for  the  sun  beat  fiercely 
into  the  enclosed  valley,  which  exuded  water  every- 
where, turning  the  atmosphere  into  a vapour  bath, 
so  that  we  sweated  abominably.  Even  after  toiling 
up  out  of  the  steaminess  to  the  fort  on  the  open 
ridge  we  found  it  warm  enough  on  such  a day ; but 
the  clouds  clustered  ominously  over  the  Pass  of  the 
Winds  and  Waters. 

However,  it  had  been  both  an  enjoyable  and  success- 
ful week,  and  we  got  back  just  before  the  rain  began 
in  earnest. 


CHAPTER  IV 


FEVER  CAMP 

WHAT  so  jolly  as  a bright  day  after  a fort- 
night’s grey  skies  and  ceaseless  rain ! 

In  the  laughing  sunshine,  the  delicately 
dressed  trees  flaunting  their  flowers  and  leaves,  the 
proud  mountains  watching  over  their  first-born  valleys 
throbbing  with  the  rush  of  new  life-giving  liquid,  the 
exquisite  blue  heavens  where  float  a few  wads  of  silver 
cloud,  we  perceive  God ; and  the  surge  of  thankful- 
ness for  life  which  rushes  up  from  the  depths  of  our 
hearts,  overwhelming  expression,  so  that  we  gaze  on 
the  scene  in  a rapture  of  mute  ecstasy — this  feeling 
too  is  of  God.  Would  that  we  might  continue  to 
live  in  the  glow  of  that  Divine  inspiration  ! At  least 
it  is  something  to  have  realised,  if  only  for  the 
moment,  our  own  divine  nature  and  our  oneness 
with  God. 

Thus  I mused  one  fresh  morning  after  wreary  days 
of  rain  as  I stood  outside  the  fort,  gazing  across  the 
gaping  valley  of  the  Ngawchang  to  the  rippling  forests 
and  snow-smeared  screes  of  Imaw  Bum,1  and  beheld  in 
those  splendid  mountains  a world  of  romance,  from 
which  the  veil  must  be  torn  aside.  The  whole  scene 
was  wrapped  in  a soft  blue  film,  the  distance  streaked 
with  white  snow  which  stood  out  in  amazing  relief ; 
and  at  sunset  long  waves  of  stratus  cloud  lapped  against 
1 Height,  13,371  feet. 

E 65 


66  FEVER  CAMP 

the  indigo  rocks,  where  they  projected  from  the  dark- 
ness of  the  valley. 

Two  days  later,  therefore,  on  22nd  June,  we  set  out, 
making  a bee-line  for  a low  col  opposite  the  fort,  and 
thence  straight  down  to  the  Ngawchang  river,  rather 
than  follow  the  long  mule-road  down  the  Hpimaw 
valley  to  its  junction  with  the  main  valley,  and  up  the 
latter  again. 

In  this  wise  we  descended  by  the  zigzag  footpath 
to  Hpimaw  village,  crossed  the  head  of  the  valley,  and 
so  up  the  opposite  slope  to  the  col  which  separates 
a sugar-loaf  limestone  peak,  called  Laksang  Bum,  from 
the  main  range. 

On  the  far  side  of  the  col  lay  taungya — mountain 
cultivation — with  felled  giant  tree  trunks,  blackened 
by  fire,  confusedly  piled  in  every  direction,  making  the 
way  arduous;  but  the  view  of  high  mountains  right 
before  us,  framed  between  gaping  spurs,  lured  us 
forward.  In  the  June  twilight  we  came  on  three 
wooden  Yawyin  huts,  perched  on  the  bleak  crest  of 
the  ridge  which  plunged  steeply  to  the  valley  below, 
and  hired  a guide  from  amongst  the  inhabitants. 

Then  on  down  the  steep  limestone  slope,  its  crisp 
turf  speckled  with  stunted  bushes  of  Cotoneaster,  oak 
and  white-flowered  Bauhinia,  till,  as  night  deepened,  we 
reached  a splashing  torrent  in  the  valley. 

On  again  through  the  leafy  darkness  of  the  stream 
bed  to  another  Yawyin  village,  where  we  halted;  but 
our  night’s  slumber  was  rudely  interrupted  by  the  rival 
cries  of  dogs  and  babies. 

Besides  my  two  Chinese  servants,  Yawyin  guide  and 
eight  Lashi  porters,  I had  with  me  two  hired  collectors, 
odd  little  fellows,  lazy  and  unenterprising  to  a degree. 


FEVER  CAMP  67 

Bum-pat  in  particular  was  a stumpy-legged,  flat-nosed, 
pudding-faced  little  rascal,  but  a pocket  Hercules  when 
he  chose  to  exert  himself.  He  Joved  to  pluck  flowers 
by  the  wayside,  not  for  my  pleasure,  but  to  set  jauntily 
in  the  wide  bamboo  tubes  which  were  thrust  through 
his  ragged  ear-lobes ; small  brass  rings  hung  likewise 
from  these  same  tubes,  and  strips  of  scarlet  cloth 
were  threaded  through  other  holes  in  the  upper 
lobe  of  each  ear.  Beside  him  the  tall,  lantern- 
jawed  Yawyin,  with  his  plain  bag  hung  over  one 
shoulder  and  his  long  dah  over  the  other,  looked 
almost  simple. 

Reaching  the  Ngawchang  next  day,  we  followed  a 
path  up-stream  by  tangled  hedges  of  bramble,  climbing 
fern  (Lygodium  sp.)  and  white  sprays  of  Polygonum, 
through  luxuriant  meadows,  across  water-logged  rice- 
fields  whence  rose  the  far-away  gurgle  of  invisible 
streams  spilling  over  from  one  terrace  to  the  next,  into 
dark,  forested  gullies  full  of  ferns  and  blue  forget-me- 
not  and  velvet-leafed  rock  plants,  to  a cane  suspension 
bridge  spanning  the  gorge. 

Here  the  cliffs  were  hung  with  a curtain  of  creepers, 
dependent  from  giant  trees,  and  from  the  wet  crevices 
sprang  a wealth  of  ferns,  begonias  and  clusters  of 
violet,  waxen-flowered  didissandra. 

The  swaying  bridge,  so  flimsy  in  appearance,  so 
strong  in  fact,  is  thirty  yards  long,  and  seems  to  swing 
in  an  everlasting  wind  driven  through  the  gorge  by 
the  water  rushing  along  below;  however,  we  crossed 
without  incident,  and  then  came  a steep  climb  up  the 
cliff  to  the  open  paddy-land  above. 

Working  in  the  fields,  with  their  already  short  skirts 
tucked  still  higher,  were  several  stout-limbed  Lashi 


68  FEYER  CAMP 

girls,  who  exchanged  loud-voiced  greeting  with  my 
men. 

“ What  savages  ! ” cried  Tung-chflen,  thinking  of 
the  demure  matrons  of  China.  “ Look  at  their  feet ! 
Look  at  their  hair ! They  are  not  dressed  ! ” 

And  indeed  his  disparaging  remarks  were  merited, 
for  our  Amazons  were  wading  in  the  mud,  and  had, 
besides  tucking  up  their  skirts,  thrown  aside  their 
jackets,  displaying  ample  breasts.  Their  coarse  black 
hair,  which  so  aroused  Tung’s  derision,  was  cut  in  a 
fringe  round  the  forehead,  like  a mop,  and  tied  in  a 
knot  on  top  of  the  head ; their  feet  were  bare,  number 
eights,  rather  a contrast  to  the  “ six-inch  gold  lilies  ” of 
Tung’s  fellow-countrywomen.  Through  the  pendulous 
lobes  of  their  distorted  ears  were  thrust  large  bamboo 
tubes,  supporting  in  turn  heavy  brass  rings ; and  clumsy 
silver  hoops  loosely  embraced  their  stout  necks,  hanging 
over  the  breast,  with  a tangle  of  bead  necklaces. 
Altogether,  what  with  their  awkward  movements  and 
preposterous  ornaments,  these  heavy-featured  Lashi 
women  were  not  very  attractive. 

After  halting  at  a hut  for  lunch,  while  the  Lashis,  as 
usual,  set  about  combing  their  locks,  we  set  out  to 
climb  the  steep  spur  fronting  us,  up  which  twisted  a 
narrow  path  overgrown  with  thick  bush. 

The  steep,  rocky  slopes  of  the  Ngawchang  valley 
above  the  scattered  paddy  pockets  on  the  river  terraces 
are  clothed  with  coarse  grass  and  bracken,  interspersed 
with  pines  and  alder-trees ; many  flowers  too,  as  white 
lilies,  anemones  ( A . vitifolia ),  orchids  and  meadow-rue 
grow  in  this  ragged  wilderness.  Here  and  there  are 
patches  of  taungya , where  meagre  crops  of  maize  and 
buckwheat  struggle  up  amongst  the  felled  trees ; and 


FEVER  CAMP  69 

dense  thickets  where  alders,  brambles  (Oxyspora  sp.), 
ferns  and  twining  plants,  all  fighting  ruthlessly  for 
place,  indicate  abandoned  taungya.  But  the  streams, 
flowing  in  deep,  shady  gullies,  are  always  choked  with 
tropical  forest,  which  thus  seems  to  stripe  the  hill-side. 

Presently,  after  a short  rest  on  the  grassy  summit  of 
a spur,  I dropped  behind  the  others,  and  suddenly 
feeling  very  sick,  lay  down  and  lost  consciousness.  It 
was  nearly  an  hour  later  when  I staggered  to  my  feet, 
and  pushed  on  up  the  steep  path  -with  leaden  footsteps, 
halting  every  few  yards.  At  last  two  of  the  porters, 
returning  from  the  village  which  they  had  long  since 
reached,  carried  me  the  remaining  distance. 

The  kindly  Yawyins  now  put  at  my  disposal  an 
empty  hut,  swept  and  garnished,  and  for  the  next  two 
hours  I lay  on  my  bed  in  a paroxysm  of  fever,  staring 
up  at  the  blackened  thatch,  from  which  hung  festoons 
of  soot  oscillating  in  the  breeze,  and  at  the  smoked 
bamboo  supports,  gleaming  as  though  varnished. 

After  a good  night’s  sleep  I awoke  feeling  better, 
and  while  the  men  were  packing  looked  about  me. 
There  wrere  two  very  pretty  young  girls  in  one  hut, 
gipsy-like,  w'ith  hazel  eyes  and  abundant  black  hair- 
nor  were  they  so  shy  as  in  some  of  the  villages. 

Unfortunately  the  Yawyins  chew'  pan , which  dis- 
colours the  teeth;  and,  ageing  before  their  time,  the 
women  at  least  do  not  long  retain  those  bonny  looks 
which  so  charm  the  traveller.  Moreover,  though  cleaner 
than  their  cousins  the  Lashis,  still  an  aversion  to  water 
is  sufficiently  marked  amongst  them.  However,  these 
defects  are  scarcely  appreciated  by  a casual  glance,  and 
they  are  decidedly  attractive  to  the  eye. 

This  village  was  situated  about  3000  feet  above  the 


70  FEVER  CAMP 

Ngawchang  hka,  by  a stream  which  tumbled  over  a 
low  cliff.  Now  came  a long  pull  up,  buried  in  scented 
bracken,  till,  having  traversed  two  faces  of  a pyramid 
which  forms  the  corner-stone,  so  to  speak,  where  the 
Ngawchang  turns  at  right  angles,  we  reached  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  It  was  a hot  day,  and  no  water  was  to  be 
found,  so  we  sat  down  and  made  a thorough  reconnais- 
sance of  our  position  before  entering  the  Stygian  dark- 
ness of  the  forest,  after  which  we  should  have  to  trust 
to  a sense  of  direction  scarcely  checked  by  observation. 

Ascending  thus,  we  had  gradually  prised  open  a 
view,  hitherto  locked  away  out  of  sight,  into  the  very 
depths  of  the  Ngawchang  valley,  now  seen  as  a winding 
ribbon  of  filmy  blueness,  chequered  with  gleaming 
rectangles  of  paddy-land  ; to  the  north  snow  shone  from 
the  clouded  peaks,  while  looking  back,  across  the  other 
bend  of  the  Ngawchang,  we  saw  the  distant  Salween 
divide,  ribbed  and  buttressed  between  its  corroded 
grooves. 

Matted  forest  and  marbled  cloud,  with  here  and 
there  a yellow  lozenge-shaped  scar  where  a limestone 
cliff  interrupted  the  slope,  or  a thread  of  silver  where 
some  stream  leapt  from  its  bed  into  the  air — that  was 
the  view. 

How  slight  an  impression  man  has  made — can  ever 
make — on  these  streaming  mountains,  whose  stony 
heart  is  well  hidden  beneath  the  velvet  mantle  of  forest ! 
For  though  the  life-blood  throbs  so  near  the  surface, 
veiling  the  world  in  soft  beauty,  yet  any  attempt  to 
disturb  it  brings  immediate,  irreparable  disaster  in  its 
train.  The  beauty  indeed  is  but  skin-deep.  Cut 
away  a few  trees  on  those  angular  slopes  and  the 
hungry  water,  which  has  been  held  in  leash  watching 


FEVER  CAMP 


7* 

and  waiting,  instantly  rips  bare  the  hill-side,  flinging 
everything  pell-mell  into  the  deep-flowing  arteries 
below,  and  leaving  behind  nothing  but  stark  staring 
rock,  dreadful  in  its  agony,  till  time  and  the  patient 
lichen  shall,  after  long  ages,  have  raised  a new  film  of 
soil  where  moss  and  ferns  may  perhaps  bind  the  gaping 
wound. 

Wherefore  any  attempt  at  cultivation  is  doomed.  It 
is  only  in  the  valleys,  or  here  and  there  at  the  mountain 
foot  where  a sufficiency  of  soil  has  accumulated,  that  a 
hill  clearing  can  be  made.  Two  crops  cannot  be  raised 
on  it  in  successive  years — it  must  be  abandoned  to  the 
choking  undergrowth  which  springs  up  amongst  the 
fallen  tree  trunks  till,  after  six  or  eight  years,  it  can  be 
burnt,  to  bear  again.  Such  is  the  universal  method 
of  raising  scattered  crops  throughout  the  wilderness  of 
the  North-East  Frontier. 

Villages  are  tucked  away  out  of  sight  in  the  valleys, 
or  cling  to  the  lower  slopes  and  spurs,  Lashi  below, 
Yawyin  above;  and  the  proud  forest  tree  reigns 
supreme  in  the  silence  beyond. 

We  had  been  on  the  scorched  hill-side,  under  a hot 
sun,  nearly  five  hours  when  at  length  we  reached  the 
shelter  of  the  forest.  Here  we  were  on  the  crest  of 
a ridge  and  there  was  still  no  water  to  be  had,  though 
the  fever  had  given  me  a lively  thirst.  However,  our 
guide  came  to  the  rescue,  by  cutting  down  some  dead 
bamboo  haulms,  whose  stout  stems  were  found  to  con- 
tain plenty  of  good  rain-water,  though  with  a slightly 
bitter  taste.  This  was  a piece  of  jungle  lore  worth 
remembering. 

The  jungle  here  was  very  open,  almost  park-like, 
the  trees  small  and  moss-covered.  Patches  of  balsam. 


72  FEVER  CAMP 

iris,  ferns,  Selaginella  and  scattered  orchids  were  the 
only  undergrowth. 

Coming  presently  to  a tinkling  stream,  we  halted 
near  by,  and  set  about  making  a camp.  Bamboos  and 
saplings  were  soon  cut  down,  and  in  the  clearings 
rough  shelters,  roofed  with  branches  and  bark,  rigged 
up,  while  my  tent  was  pitched  on  a knoll.  Then  the 
fires  were  lit  and  all  made  snug  for  the  night. 

It  had  been  a warm,  sunny  day,  with  the  promise  of 
fine  weather;  we  were  camped  well  up  on  a spur  of 
the  peak  to  be  climbed,  with  provisions  for  a week ; 
success  was  in  sight.  The  fever  attack  was,  of  course, 
disconcerting,  but  I might  throw  that  off ; anyhow,  we 
were  out  to  find  a way  to  the  top. 

At  dusk  there  came  a mutter  of  thunder,  and  the 
clear  sunset  sky  clouded  over  rapidly.  Louder  and 
nearer  grew  the  thunder,  and  with  it  the  wind  rose. 

Within  five  minutes  of  the  first  warning  a terrific 
storm  rushed  upon  us,  with  brilliant  flashes  of  lightning 
and  drenching  rain.  The  wind  tore  madly  at  the  tent, 
and  it  looked  as  if  it  might  be  lifted  bodily  up  at  any 
moment.  I was  grovelling  inside  the  little  bathroom 
annexe  at  the  back  of  the  tent,  tightening  ropes, 
when  there  came  a sudden  crash,  followed  by  a rend- 
ing sound ; at  the  same  moment  a shower  of  branches 
rattled  down,  and  half  the  tent  collapsed  ! A forty- 
foot  tree  had  fallen  across  it. 

I crawled  out  from  the  wreckage  into  the  main  part 
of  the  tent.  The  centre  pole,  bent  like  a bow,  still 
held,  and  one  of  the  support  poles  leaned  at  a drunken 
angle — indeed  the  tent  might  collapse  bodily  if  I did 
not  look  sharp. 

Next  moment  Lao-niu  appeared,  white  in  the  face 


Photo  by]  A.  IV.  Porter , Esq. 

A Maru  Matron. 

The  head-cloth  shows  that  she  is  married.  She  is  carrying  the  day’s  water  supply  from 
the  spring.  The  water  is  carried  in  bamboo  tubes. 


FEVER  CAMP 


73 

and  streaming  with  water,  crawiing  through  the  hole 
in  the  back  of  the  tent  like  a frightened  dog  seeking 
cover. 

“ Ta-jen , it  is  a big  tree  that  has  fallen,”  he  said, 
staring  wildly. 

“ Cut  it  away  from  the  ropes,”  I yelled,  against  the 
noise  of  the  storm.  “The  whole  tent  will  go  in  a 
minute ! ” I was  pulling  off  my  clothes  then. 

“ Ta-jen , it  is  a big  tree,  a very  big  tree ! ” He 
repeated  the  statement  in  a dazed  way,  as  though  it 
were  some  magic  formula. 

“ Get  a c/ah,  call  the  Lashis,  cut  the  wreckage  loose 
at  once.” 

“ It  is  a very  big  tree,  ta-jen ,”  he  muttered  mechanic- 
ally, shivering  with  cold  and  fear,  but  doing  nothing. 

By  this  time  I was  stripped,  and  seizing  a dah,  I 
dashed  out  into  the  night.  Ugh ! I shuddered  and 
caught  my  breath  as  the  cold  rain  stung  my  naked 

The  storm  was  now  at  its  height,  the  trees  tossing 
their  branches  madly.  Then  a glare  of  lightning  lit  up 
the  scene,  and  I was  soon  warm,  hacking  at  the  tangled 
wreckage.  A fair-sized  tree  had  been  blown  down, 
but  was  luckily  supported  in  part  by  the  surrounding 
forest,  one  branch  only  having  crashed  through  my 
tent.  A couple  of  men  were  already  at  work  on  it 
and  we  soon  had  the  ropes,  which,  owing  to  the  limited 
space,  were  in  most  cases  tied  to  trees  instead  of  to 
pegs  in  the  ground,  freed. 

Then  we  fixed  up  the  flapping  rags  of  canvas  and  I 
got  back  under  shelter,  all  aglow  with  the  exertion, 
and  rubbed  myself  down  with  a rough  towel  till  I was 
as  red  as  a boiled  lobster. 


74  FEVER  CAMP 

The  wind  quickly  subsided,  but  the  rain  continued 
for  a time.  Then  gradually  silence  fell  over  the  forest, 
till  I could  hear  the  men  talking  in  their  shelters  and 
the  wail  of  bamboo  flutes;  through  the  torn-out  end 
of  the  tent  a ruddy  glow  of  camp  fires  burning  brightly 
once  more  stole  cheerfully  upon  my  solitude.  This 
spot  we  christened  Storm  Camp. 

Next  morning,  to  my  astonishment,  the  day  was 
clear  and  sunny  after  the  storm ; evidently  it  was  only 
a local  disturbance,  of  which  we  experienced  a much 
worse  example  later. 

We  broke  camp  early,  ascending  steeply,  traversing, 
descending,  but  keeping  as  closely  as  possible  to  the 
crest  of  the  ridge  which  I hoped  to  follow  all  the  way, 
forest  permitting.  Luckily  the  forest  was  here  pretty 
open,  with  small  oaks,  rhododendrons,  Bucklandia, 
magnolia  and  clumps  of  bamboo,  but  along  the 
traverses  and  in  the  deep  cross-cuts  which  trenched 
the  ridge  and  plunged  deeply  down  into  impenetrable 
jungle  progress  was  much  slower. 

This  bamboo  forest,  as  one  might  call  it  after  the 
dominant  plant,  in  distinction  to  the  rain  forest  of 
Hpimaw  and  the  Feng-shui-ling,  is  interesting. 

The  trees  nearly  all  branch  close  to  the  ground, 
sending  up  a great  number  of  twisted  and  bent  stems 
which  interlace  above;  or  the  trunk  supports  a sort 
of  candelabra  of  branches.  But  the  clean,  strapping 
trunk  shooting  straight  up  for  fifty  or  sixty  feet  as 
in  the  rain  forest  is  rarely  met  with,  and  then  it  is 
always  a conifer;  also  there  is  less  undergrowth. 

From  tree  to  tree  stretched  spiders’  webs  and  long 
threads  of  gossamer  which,  bedewed  by  the  rain, 
twinkled  and  glittered  in  the  breeze  as  the  early 


FEVER  CAMP  75 

morning  sunlight  sent  its  shafts  peeping  through  the 
glades. 

An  hour  after  starting  a fever  attack  set  me  shivering 
and  vomiting  again.  The  going  too  became  very  bad, 
with  precipitous  descents  down  slippery  banks  into 
gullies  stuffed  full  of  bamboo  where  we  had  to  hack 
out  steps.  Now  we  climbed  trees  and,  lopping  off  the 
branches,  saw  the  Ngawchang  valley  behind  us,  far 
below,  mottled  with  sunny  colours,  and  snow'  on  the 
mountains  ahead,  but  still  a long  w'ay  off. 

At  last  I could  go  no  farther,  and  wrapping  myself 
in  a blanket  lay  down  on  the  ground ; but  the  men 
went  ahead  to  scout  for  water,  the  presence  of  which 
controlled  our  camps.  Happily  a pool  was  found  not 
far  away,  and  I stayed  where  I was  till  the  camp  was 
fixed,  w'hen  the  men  returned  and  carried  me  to  bed. 

The  afternoon  w'aned  slowly,  the  shivering  fit  passed, 
and  by  evening  I felt  better  again.  We  were  camped 
on  a knoll,  which  the  men  had  cleared  of  bamboos, 
using  them  to  build  their  shelters.  On  every  side  was 
the  dense,  dank  forest,  and  our  water  was  obtained 
from  a shallow,  flat-bottomed  gully,  treeless  and  open 
at  the  top,  but  plunging  steeply  and  deeply  down  into 
thick  jungle  on  either  side,  w'hich  cut  across  the  ridge 
at  right  angles. 

Perhaps  the  most  depressing  feature  of  these  forests 
is  the  immense  silence  w'hich  pervades  them;  it  is  as  if 
such  dim,  wret  solitudes  oppressed  animal  life  rather 
than  holding  out  promise  of  shelter  and  food,  for  birds 
are  quite  rare,  and  we  saw'  no  animals  larger  than  voles 
and  mice— not  even  a squirrel.  True,  at  Storm  Camp 
on  the  fringe  of  the  forest  wre  had  seen  a couple  of 
snakes — these  reptiles  flourish  to  excess  in  the  hot,  wet 


7 6 FEVER  CAMP 

valleys  of  the  Hpimaw  hills— and  several  partridges. 
But  here  the  forest  seemed  absolutely  deserted — yet 
once  we  heard  the  tweet-tweet  of  a tiny  bird. 

Immediately  one  of  the  Lashis  concealed  himself  in 
a thicket  and  started  to  whistle  a few  plaintive  notes  in 
reply. 

Presently  curiosity  got  the  better  of  that  little  bird’s 
discretion,  and  the  tweeting  came  nearer.  Still  the 
decoy  whistle  continued,  was  answered,  and  so  again, 
till  at  last  the  poor  little  victim  appeared,  hopping 
cautiously  from  twig  to  twig,  cocking  his  head  perkily 
now  on  one  side,  now  on  the  other,  as  though  consider- 
ing, till  he  was  right  over  the  thicket  where  the  bush- 
rangers lay  in  wait;  and  he  would  assuredly  have  been 
struck  dead  on  the  spot  had  there  been  any  missiles 
to  hand.  This  incident  may  partly  account  for  the 
scarcity  of  birds  in  these  hills,  as  it  does  in  so 
many  of  the  hill  jungles  where  the  poor  natives  wage 
incessant  warfare  against  anything  that  flies,  creeps  or 
crawls,  for  food. 

I was  quite  unfit  to  travel  next  day,  so  calling  the 
Lashis  together  1 spoke  to  them  as  follows : — 

“ Go,”  I said,  “ make  a path  to  the  snow  mountains 
and  bring  back  all  the  flowers  you  can  find.” 

I was  not  altogether  certain  that,  blinded  in  the 
forest  as  we  had  been  on  the  previous  day,  we  might 
not  have  diverged  from  the  main  ridge  on  to  some 
minor  spur.  However,  from  camp  the  ground  rose 
above  us,  and  by  ascending  as  high  as  possible  and 
then  climbing  trees  the  men  ought  to  be  able  to  get 
a view  of  the  snowy  mountains  and  of  our  position  in 
relation  to  them. 

By  the  plants  they  brought  back  1 should  be  able  to 


FEVER  CAMP  77 

judge  roughly  what  altitude  they  had  attained,  and  as 
I expected  them  to  reach  the  snow  and  return  laden 
with  alpines,  it  was  with  a certain  suppressed  excite- 
ment that  I awaited  their  return. 

The  morning  dragged  slowly  on,  and  my  disgust  can 
be  imagined  when,  quite  early  in  the  afternoon,  those 
gallant  Lashis  returned  hours  earlier  than  they  were 
expected,  to  report  that,  though  it  was  possible  to  get 
along,  there  was  no  water  (hence  no  place  to  camp), 
and  that  the  cliffs  were  still  far  away.  As  for  plants, 
they  brought  me  a balsam,  a Corydalis  which  turned 
out  to  be  new  1 and  one  or  two  other  subdued  species 
of  the  forest  undergrow  th  ! 

Where  were  the  primulas,  saxifrages  and  Meconopsis 
that  I sighed  for  ? It  was  a great  disappointment,  but 
I consoled  myself  by  anticipating  what  we  would  do 
next  day. 

When  darkness  fell  I heard  the  fires  crackling  merrily 
as  the  big  rhododendron  logs  were  piled  on,  and  the  sad 
wail  of  bamboo  flutes,  and  snatches  of  song  crooned  in 
a minor  key,  from  wrhere  the  Lashis  sat  huddled  up  in 
their  cramped  shelter  huts.  The  wreather  was  still  fine, 
but  the  sky  had  clouded  over  and  a cool  breeze  had 
rustled  the  trees  all  day,  bringing  down  showers  of 
leaves  at  dusk. 

Away  in  the  middle  of  the  night  I awoke  suddenly. 

Outside  the  trees  were  weeping  softly  under  a 
drizzling  rain  and  from  the  gloom  beyond  the  entrance 
two  large  eyes  of  livid  fire  gazed  at  me  unblinking. 
For  a long  time  I lay  looking  at  this  apparition,  as  I 
thought  in  my  sickness  it  must  be;  at  last  curiosity 
could  stand  it  no  longer,  and  rising  unsteadily  I found 
1 Corydalis  sa/tatoria,  sp.  nov. 


78  FEVER  CAMP 

an  old  tree  stump  just  outside,  from  the  crumbling 
interior  of  which  two  patches  of  fungus-infested  spunk- 
wood  glowed  with  phosphorescent  flame ; on  the 
ground  lay  scattered  leaves  and  sticks  outlined  in  pale 
fire  from  the  same  cause. 

Came  27th  June,  after  a long,  long  night  of  wakeful- 
ness, but  no  bustle  of  starting  up  the  ridge;  for 
another  spasm  of  fever  had  prostrated  me.  A fierce 
bout  of  shivering  and  vomiting  early  left  me  in  a state 
of  collapse  for  the  rest  of  that  day,  and  on  the  28th 
I sent  a party  down  the  mountain,  telling  them  to  seek 
a route  straight  down  the  flank  of  the  spur  to  the 
Yawyin  village.  If  this  was  feasible,  it  would  save 
a long  round,  as  we  had  ascended  by  an  unnecessarily 
circuitous  route. 

The  men  were  away  all  day,  and  returned  at  dusk, 
saying  they  had  found  a new  route — they  were  willing 
enough  to  work  when  it  came  to  going  down  ! Also 
they  improvised  a chair  with  two  bamboo  poles  and 
a board  attached  by  ropes. 

At  night  a gusty  wind  rose,  sending  the  leaves 
fluttering  down  again,  and  later  came  rain. 

The  morning  of  the  29th  dawned  damp  and  misty, 
the  whole  jungle  sobbing  quietly  as  it  seemed,  and  it 
was  with  a heavy  heart  that  I gave  the  order  to  pack 
up  and  abandon  Fever  Camp. 

We  started  early,  myself  seated  in  the  chair 
wrapped  in  blankets  and  carried  by  two  men.  Almost 
immediately  we  left  the  ridge  and  plunged  down  a 
tremendously  steep  declivity  through  a dense  growth  of 
bamboo;  but  the  men  had  marked  a good  trail,  and 
going  ahead  now,  cut  a way  for  the  chair,  so  that  we 
went  down  at  a great  pace.  Pushing  through  the  tall 


FEVER  CAMP  7 9 

bamboos,  I was  soon  thoroughly  wetted  by  the  showers 
of  water  shaken  from  their  slender  stems;  but  in  a 
surprisingly  short  time  we  emerged  from  the  forest, 
finding  ourselves  out  on  the  steep,  bracken-covered  hill- 
side again,  and  almost  immediately  above  the  village, 
which  was  reached  within  another  two  hours. 

The  clouds  now  rolled  back,  revealing  the  mountains 
all  round,  the  sun  shone  out,  and  the  heavy  heat  of  the 
valley  began  to  ureigh  on  us  like  a hot  pudding-cloth. 

We  rested  an  hour  at  the  village  and  in  the  after- 
noon continued  down  towards  the  river;  though  shaky, 
I succeeded  in  walking  most  of  the  way. 

One  of  the  Lashis  trod  on  a snake  in  the  long  grass 
— he  wras  bare-footed,  of  course — and  leapt  clean  into 
the  air  with  a yell  like  an  Apache;  when  he  reached 
earth  again  he  broke  the  reptile’s  back  with  his 
bamboo  staff. 

We  slept  in  the  hut  of  a Chinaman  who  told  me 
he  came  from  Chungking,  the  port  on  the  Yang-tze 
at  the  head  of  the  great  gorges,  many  weeks’  march 
distant.  This  is  an  interesting  fact,  as  illustrating  the 
gradual  westward  movement  of  the  Chinese.  I have 
come  across  Ssu-ch‘uan  men  cultivating  inhospitable- 
looking  mountain  slopes  in  the  remotest  parts  of 
Yun-nan,  which  is  gradually  being  populated  from 
the  overcrowded  Chengtu  plain,  the  richest  part  of 
the  immensely  fertile  province  of  Ssu-ch‘uan,  with  its 
seventy  million  inhabitants.  And  as  they  press  peace- 
fully westwards  they  eat  up  and  imperceptibly  absorb 
the  tribesmen  who  lie  in  their  way,  hustling  the  intract- 
able remnant  farther  and  higher  into  the  mountains. 

This  direction  taken  by  the  emigrants  of  Ssu-ch‘uan 
is  the  natural  one,  the  line  of  least  resistance,  south- 


8o  FEVER  CAMP 

wards  down  the  valleys  into  the  empty  spaces  of 
Yun-nan. 

North  and  west  would  only  take  them  into  the  cold 
Tibetan  mountains  and  grassland  plateaux,  a country 
they  abhor,  and  where  they  are  not  wanted. 

Swarms  of  mosquitoes  kept  me  awake  all  night.  My 
shivering  fit  was  due  next  day,  but  the  path  was  easy 
and  we  should  reach  Hpimaw  in  the  afternoon,  as 
I had  hired  four  more  villagers  to  carry  my  chair. 

Nevertheless  it  was  a long  journey,  and  it  took  us 
nearly  nine  hours  to  the  fort,  reached  by  five  o’clock. 
The  evening  was  beautifully  fine,  and  as  we  climbed 
the  long  hill  from  the  Ngawchang  valley  the  “ pass  of 
the  winds  and  waters  ” stood  out  in  clear  relief. 

Then  I dosed  myself  with  quinine  and  went  to  bed. 

Thus  on  30th  June  the  first  attempt  on  Iroaw  Bum 
came  to  an  untimely  end. 


( 


CHAPTER  V 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

LITTLE  more  than  a week  later  we  set  out  a 
second  time  for  Imaw  Bum,  but  alas  ! by  this 
time  the  weather  had  suffered  a relapse. 

As  before,  we  made  straight  for  the  Ngawchang  hka 
over  hill  and  dale,  sleeping  just  above  that  river. 

Pushing  through  the  thick  growth  in  the  stream 
bed  hard  by  the  Yawyin  village  where  we  had  slept 
previously,  my  attention  was  attracted  to  the  strange 
circumstance  of  some  tall  stinging  nettles  rocking  to 
and  fro  in  still  air,  and  turning  to  them  I found  that 
this  motion  was  caused  by  a number  of  large  cater- 
pillars agitating  the  leaves.  These  formidable  larvm, 
apprehensive  at  my  approach,  had  raised  their  heads, 
snake-like,  and  darting  them  rapidly  to  and  fro  caused 
the  leaves  on  which  they  sat  to  shiver  and  tremble  in 
the  manner  described.  The  trembling  motion  became 
still  more  marked  as  I looked  closer,  and  when  finally 
I touched  one,  several  of  them  ejected  at  me,  with 
considerable  violence,  drops  of  dark  green  fluid.  Such 
mummery  is  evidently  designed  to  scare  away  some 
enemy,  but  whether  bird,  spider  or  insect  I did  not 
ascertain. 

On  the  following  day  we  crossed  the  Ngawchang, 
and  ascended  to  the  Yawyin  village  by  the  cascade, 
where  we  learnt  wdth  astonishment  that  since  our  last 
visit  the  tiny  village  had  been  scourged,  three  men 

81 


F 


82  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

having  died  and  one  woman  even  now  lying  grievously 
sick ; an  old  man  told  me  that  they  had  all  eaten 
poisoned  honey. 

I asked  T‘ung  about  this,  thinking  of  the  Pontine 
honey  which  poisoned  the  soldiers  of  Cyrus  during 
the  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand,  as  related  by 
Xenophon.1 

“ It  is  true,  ta-jen ,”  he  said.  “ In  the  fifth  and  sixth 
months  the  honey  is  poisonous,  and  those  who  eat  it 
die ; but  at  other  times  it  is  good.” 

The  old  man  was  himself  ill,  and  saddened  by  the 
disaster  which  had  overtaken  his  village ; but  I gave 
him  some  medicine  and  he  eventually  recovered. 

Next  morning  we  awoke  in  the  clouds.  Heavy 
showers  continued  to  fall,  and  the  steep  hill-side  on  the 
direct  route  to  Fever  Camp  was  very  slippery. 

Plunging  at  last  into  the  dripping  forest,  we  reached 
our  goal  in  five  hours,  after  an  exhausting  climb ; 
however,  it  had  proved  less  formidable  than  I anticipated, 
and  preferable  to  the  roundabout  route  via  Storm 
Camp  followed  on  the  last  journey. 

We  found  the  huts  at  Fever  Camp  in  good  repair, 
and  as  soon  as  the  fires  were  blazing  we  became  quite 
merry  in  spite  of  discomforts. 

Shafts  of  sunlight  darting  between  the  trees  next 
morning  awakened  the  camp  at  six  o’clock,  and  we 
were  soon  on  our  way,  the  bamboos  showering  their 
burden  of  water  on  us  as  we  brushed  through. 

Keeping  to  the  ridge,  and  ascending  gradually,  we 
presently  halted  to  climb  trees,  but  though  we  had  a 
glimpse  into  the  Ngawchang  valley,  the  mountains  were 

1 Sec  also  Hooker,  Himalayan  Journals , and  J.  C.  Whyte,  Sikkim 
and  Bhutan . 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  83 

everywhere  hidden.  Two  hours’  marching  brought  us 
to  the  end  of  the  path  previously  cut  by  the  Lashis — 
a sufficient  tribute  to  their  slackness — and  after  that 
progress  became  slower,  the  bamboos  growing  very 
thickly  in  places.  Flowers  were  rare,  a couple  of 
dwarf  raspberries,  several  species  of  balsam,  a Pedi- 
cularis  and  an  orchid  being  the  only  ones  I have 
recorded.  But  there  were  rhododendrons  and  a few 
other  small  trees  mixed  with  the  bamboo  growth,  and 
now  fir-trees  began  to  appear.  Birds  called  at  intervals, 
but  kept  out  of  sight ; and  we  crossed  the  tracks  of  a 
bear. 

In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  halted  by  a 
shallow  saddle  where  water  was  found,  and  for  the 
next  half-hour  nothing  was  heard  but  the  ringing  of 
dab  against  bamboo,  as  rapidly  a space  was  cleared. 
One  by  one  the  shelters  were  run  up,  and  presently 
looking  through  the  trees  I saw  from  my  tent  the 
gleaming  fires  and  little  groups  of  men  seated  round 
them  over  their  rice-pots. 

Selecting  a big  rhododendron,  I climbed  to  the  top 
and  settled  down  to  wait  for  the  curtain  to  go  up. 
After  an  hour  I was  rewarded.  The  clouds  lifted 
slightly,  permitting  a view  of  the  Imaw  Bum  range 
away  to  the  left,  across  a broad  gap. 

On  the  right  lay  the  Ngawchang  valley,  but  of 
the  ridge  ahead  I could  see  nothing  on  account  of 
trees;  then  the  mist  came  steaming  up  from  below 
again,  and  everything  was  blotted  out.  However, 
we  seemed  to  be  going  in  the  right  direction ; all 
we  had  to  do  was  to  push  ahead,  keeping  to  the 
ridge. 

I called  this  place  Observation  Camp — altitude  be- 


84  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

tween  8000  and  9000  feet;  it  was  really  quite  a jolly 
spot,  except  for  swarms  of  sand-flies. 

On  14th  July  we  awoke  enveloped  in  clammy  cloud 
as  usual,  and  nothing  could  be  seen  from  the  look-out 
tree.  After  a gradual  ascent,  the  ridge  going  up  and 
down  like  a switchback,  we  went  astray  for  a time, 
bearing  away  to  the  left  along  a lateral  spur,  but 
luckily  the  clouds  lifted  and  revealed  the  error  before 
we  had  gone  very  far. 

Following  the  first  early  morning  rush  of  mist  out 
of  the  valley  it  kept  comparatively  fine,  and  in  the 
afternoon  during  a burst  of  sunshine  we  had  another 
view  of  the  range,  girded  round  with  bold  precipices ; 
there  could  be  no  doubt  that  we  were  converging 
slowly  on  Imawr  Bum  itself. 

Still  it  was  an  anxious  day  of  hard  work,  cutting  a 
path,  or,  where  the  ridge  broadened  and  the  bamboos 
grew  more  openly,  selecting  the  best  route.  At  one 
point  we  were  held  up  by  a dense  growth  of  stiff 
bamboo  grass  six  to  eight  feet  high,  which  proved  a 
formidable  obstacle. 

Gradually  all  the  old  familiar  trees  save  rhododen- 
drons died  out,  while  fir-trees,  hitherto  scattered,  began 
to  increase  in  numbers.  Still  there  were  no  flowers, 
though  we  came  across  a single  plant  of  Podophyllum 
Etnodi,  dangling  its  big  pear-shaped  scarlet  fruits,  and 
a curious  little  black  orchid,  as  fungus-like  in  appearance 
as  in  situation,  growing  in  the  fermenting  leaf  mould. 
There  were  also  a few  Liliacem  in  fruit,  and  some 
ferns.  Everywhere  our  feet  trod  softly  the  same 
mould,  beneath  the  tall,  slender  bamboos. 

Camp  was  pitched  on  a knoll  commanding  a good 
view  of  the  range — altitude  about  10,000  feet — and 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  85 

at  nine  o’clock  the  stars  were  shining  in  a clear 
sky. 

I awoke  in  a raw  mist  to  see  T‘ung  leaning  over  me. 

“ Ta-jen”  he  greeted  me,  “there  is  no  water;  it 
was  all  finished  last  night,  and  there  is  no  more.” 

Too  true.  The  pool  from  which  we  had  drawn  our 
supply  overnight  had  run  dry.  So  we  set  out  hungry. 

Half-an-hour  after  breaking  camp  we  found  a pool 
in  the  open  jungle  and  had  breakfast  while  waiting  for 
a heavy  shower  to  pass.  All  around  us  were  silver 
firs,  big  scaly-barked  rhododendrons,  and  thick  bamboo 
grass  from  six  to  twelve  feet  high ; and  so  we  marched 
on,  up  and  down  along  the  ridge,  apparently  as  far  as 
ever  from  our  goal,  yet  in  fact  making  real  progress. 

Presently  we  came  upon  some  small,  bushy  rhodo- 
dendrons— there  was  one  with  purple  flowers  just 
over,  and  another  with  bright  lemon-yellow  flowers. 
We  were  hot  on  the  scent. 

Up  to  a certain  point  the  rhododendrons  grow 
bigger  as  one  ascends  the  mountains,  the  biggest  tree 
rhododendrons  occurring  at  intermediate  altitudes,  say 
7000  to  9000  feet.  Thence  they  rapidly  decrease  in 
size,  till  at  12,000  to  13,000  feet  on  the  North-East 
Frontier,  and  14,000  to  16,000  feet  on  the  Yun-nan 
ranges,  they  grow  like  heather  in  the  Scotch  Highlands. 

The  smallest  alpine  species  are  considerably  smaller 
than  the  bushes  and  small  trees  of  low  altitudes. 
But  see  how  little  effect  absolute  altitude  has  on 
the  flora — one  finds  the  same  species  of  rhododendron 
and  primula  at  11,000  feet  on  the  North-East  Frontier 
that  one  finds  at  15,000  feet  in  north-west  Yun-nan  ! 

And  the  matter  is  no  doubt  one  of  moisture  and 
protection  in  winter;  at  11,000  feet  on  Imaw  Bum 


86  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

plants  are  as  close  to  the  limit  of  perpetual  snow  as 
they  are  at  15,000  feet  on  the  dry  mountains  of 
Yun-nan  east  of  the  Mekong.  Moreover,  on  the  latter 
range  they  must  ascend  to  that  altitude  in  order  to 
find  sufficient  moisture  during  the  vegetative  season. 

Pressing  on,  we  came  suddenly  to  a place  where 
the  ridge  contracted  to  a granite  wall  flanked  by 
precipices,  so  that  we  must  needs  crawl  along  the 
top,  jumping  gaps,  or,  descending  from  the  crest 
of  the  ridge,  turn  the  precipices  below,  scrambling 
along  under  the  sheer  walls. 

Before  me  lay  the  answer  to  my  questions,  the 
realisation  of  my  hopes.  For  the  rocks  were  covered 
with  flowers — alpine  flowers — rhododendrons,  primula, 
saxifrage,  Cassiope,  Cremanthodium.  And  not  only 
that;  with  flowers  which,  if  not  identical  with  others 
found  on  the  Tibetan  frontier  in  1911  and  1913, 
were  plainly  microforms  of  them.1 

Some  species  were  obviously  identical,  and  of  the 
close  relationship  of  the  flora  as  a whole  there  could 
be  no  question. 

The  tremendous  significance  of  this  fact  was  not 
lost  upon  me — but  now  the  reader  will  ask : “ What 
question  was  answered  by  this  discovery,  and  what 
was  its  significance?”  I reply: 

Well,  here  is  an  alpine  flora  within  the  limits  of 
Upper  Burma  identical  with  another  alpine  flora  on 
another  mountain  range  200  miles  to  the  north  and 

1 The  word  microform  is  used  to  denote  relationship,  irrespective 
of  the  degree  of  that  relationship.  Thus  if  A is  a microform  of  B, 
some  botanists  may  call  A a variety  of  B,  another  will  regard  them  as 
distinct  species ; by  denoting  them  microforms  one  acknowledges  the 
relationship  without  committing  oneself  further. 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  87 

many  miles  to  the  east,  separated  from  it  by  the 
deep,  impassable  valley  of  the  Salween.  This  latter, 
the  western  China  alpine  flora,  has  long  been  recognised 
as  closely  related  to  the  Himalayan  alpine  flora,  so  that 
the  flora  we  are  considering  must  also  be  so  related. 

Now  it  is  impossible  for  this  flora  to  have  reached 
Burma  from  the  Himalaya,  across  the  plains  of  Assam, 
or  the  lower  ranges  to  the  west  of  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
crossing  the  hot  valleys  of  the  Mali  hka  and  Chindwin. 
Nor  indeed  is  there  any  record  of  an  alpine  flora  at 
all  comparable  to  that  of  western  China  and  the 
Himalaya  on  tfre  low  hill  ranges  of  Assam  or  western 
Burma  which  would  lead  us  to  think  that  the  migration 
could  have  been  in  this  direction.  On  the  contrary, 
what  is  known  of  the  flora  of  these  ranges  leads  to 
the  opposite  conclusion — that  such  flora  as  has  travelled 
by  this  route  has  come  to  a dead  stop  early  on. 

It  is  equally  impossible  for  the  flora  of  the  Mekong- 
Salween  divide  to  have  jumped  the  Salween  valley 
and  reached  the  Imaw  Bum  range  that  way.  Either 
it  must  have  passed  across  from  one  range  to  the 
other  before  the  Salween  valley  was  formed,  which 
is  inadmissible,  or  we  are  driven  to  the  conclusion 
that  it  came  from  the  north,  right  round  the  head 
of  the  Assam  valley  and  across  the  extreme  tip  of 
northern  Burma.  This  is  the  only  route  by  which 
the  flora  of  Imaw  Bum  and  of  the  Mekong-Salween 
divide  can  have  been  derived,  as  plainly  it  has  been, 
from  a common  source.1 

1 See  Transactions  and  Proceedings  of  the  Botanical  Society  of 
Edinburgh,  vol.  xxvii.,  part  i.,  “On  the  Sino-Himalayan  Flora.” 
Also  Geographical  Journal,  November,  1919,  “On  the  Possible 
Extension  of  the  Himalayan  Axis  beyond  the  Brahmaputra.” 


88  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

I spent  some  time  collecting  specimens  from  the 
granite  rocks,  where  I found,  amongst  others,  the 
following  : — Cassiope  myosuroides , Diapensia  himalayica , 
Primula  sciophilap  rhododendron  spp.,  Androsace  sp. 
Cremanthodium  gracillimum ; and  we  then  went  on 
our  way.  Ten  minutes  later  we  were  in  the  flower- 
less jungle  again. 

Camp  was  pitched  at  an  altitude  of  nearly  11,000 
feet,  not  far  from  the  last  of  the  silver  firs.  In 
spite  of  a marked  chilliness  in  the  atmosphere,  there 
were  actually  fire-flies  in  my  tent.  No  big  bamboos 
were  found  here,  so  the  men  cut  slabs  of  red  bark 
from  the  great  gnarled  rhododendrons  with  which 
to  roof  their  shelters. 

At  dusk  a flurry  of  cloud  tumbled  off  the  mountain- 
tops  and  sank  to  bed  in  the  valley,  and  I perched 
myself  in  the  top  of  a rhododendron  tree  and  sat 
there  looking  at  the  main  range,  and  the  summit 
of  our  ridge,  where  it  joined  Imaw  Bum,  till  the 
stars  shone  out  almost  as  brilliantly  as  under  the 
clear  dome  of  the  Tibetan  sky.  I knew  that  we 
could  easily  achieve  the  summit  next  day,  and  re- 
turned to  my  tent  happy.  But  T‘ung  had  other 
misgivings. 

“Only  three  days’  food  left,  Ta-jen ,”  he  said  when 
he  came  with  supper. 

Well,  we  would  have  to  make  a dash  for  the 
summit  next  day,  and  as  the  chances  of  finding  any 
water  higher  up  were  remote,  it  would  be  best  to 
leave  the  camp  where  it  was  and  return  there. 

Taking  with  me  five  Lashis,  I set  out  early, 
cutting  a path  through  the  formidable  barrier  of 
1 A.  beautiful  little  gem,  related  to  P.  bella. 


Yawyin  Children  and  Imaw  Bum  in  June. 

The  boy  on  the  left  is  wearing  the  rattan  cane  rings  below  the  knee,  affected  by  all  the 
frontier  tribes. 

Imaw  Bum  is  13,370  feet  high.  It  was  first  climbed  by  the  author  following  the  high  spur 
on  the  right,  subsequently  from  the  rear  by  following  up  the  valley  on 'the  left. 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  89 

bamboo  which  faced  us  at  the  start ; but  the  ridge 
soon  became  more  open.  Here  scattered  through 
the  bamboo  growth  were  the  last  outposts  of  the 
silver  firs,  stunted  and  ragged,  their  clipped  branches 
all  pointing  in  one  direction  like  finger-posts  of  ex- 
ceptional unanimity  and  tedious  persistence.  In  the 
shade  grew  livid  green  orchids  and  a beautiful 
Nomocharis,  both  white-flowered  and  rose;  here  and 
there  a break  in  the  bamboo  growth  revealed  open 
grassy  glades,  likewise  dappled  with  flowers. 

Soon  the  big  rhododendrons  in  turn  died  out,  and 
we  were  wading  through  unresisting  bamboo  grass 
little  more  than  waist  - high,  clear  to  the  screes 
beyond.  The  ascent  was  steady,  in  places  steep, 
with  none  of  those  dips  down  which  had  caused 
misgivings  in  earlier  days. 

Then  came  a confusion  of  scrub  rhododendron 
with  tawny  - red  or  flame  - yellow,  trumpet  - shaped 
flowers,1  yellow  dog  rose  (/?.  sericea ) and  bushes 
of  white- flowered  spira?a,  and  crossing  a few  strips 
of  boulder  we  found  ourselves  free,  on  the  naked 
mountain  flank,  lashed  by  hard-driven  rain. 

Suddenly  ahead  of  us  rose  several  big  birds,  as 
large  as  geese,  which  flew  screaming  down  the  slope ; 
they  were  dark  in  colour,  with  short  fan-shaped  tails 
barred  with  white,  and  long  necks,  but  that  was  all 
I could  distinguish  through  the  curtain  of  blown 
rain. 

In  1919  I came  across  this  bird  again  on  Imaw 
Bum,  and  identified  it  as  Sclater’s  monaul  ( Lopbopborus 
Sclateri ),  one  the  most  magnificent  of  all  pheasants.  1 
also  obtained  a specimen  of  the  Chinese  blood  pheasant 

1 R.  herpesticum , sp.  nov. 


90  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

( [Itbagenes  sinensis ) from  the  same  peak.  Both  are 
quite  common  on  I maw  Bum. 

Clambering  up  some  cliffs  in  the  crevices  of  which 
crouched  half-frozen  dwarf  shrubs  such  as  juniper, 
willow,  rhododendron  and  gnarled  cherry,  we  at  last 
stood  on  the  summit  of  the  long  ridge,  where  it  joined 
the  main  range. 

We  had  conquered  our  virgin  peak. 

The  highest  summit  lay  some  distance  away  to  the 
left,  along  the  main  ridge ; fronting  us  was  another 
deep  valley  at  the  bottom  of  which  flowed  a con- 
siderable stream,  and  beyond  that  again  a jumble  of 
ridges,  spurs  and  valleys,  but  through  the  veil  of  swirl- 
ing mist  it  was  difficult  to  be  sure  of  the  topography. 
Sufficient  was  it  for  the  moment  that  we  had  achieved 
our  object. 

The  far  side  of  the  mountain  sloped  smoothly  down 
to  the  stream  just  mentioned,  and  was  embroidered 
with  rhododendrons  formed  in  the  most  enchanting 
patterns,  within  the  web  of  which  were  included  small 
patches  of  pure  white  quartz  sand  starred  with  the  little 
bluish  violet  flowers  of  Primula  corypbaa ,1 

The  rhododendrons  were  all  dwarfs,  not  six  inches 
high,  bearing  erect  trusses  each  of  two  comparatively 
large  flowers  set  horizontally,  with  widely  gaping 
throats.  They  had  white  flowers,  purple  flowers,  rose 
flowers,  lemon-yellow  flowers,  port-wine  flowers  2 ; but 
perhaps  the  most  striking  of  all  was  one  with  pure  white, 
waxen-looking  flowers. 

In  this  paradise  we  roamed  for  some  time  though 
shivering  with  cold  as  the  raw  wind  beat  through  our 

1 P.  coryphaa,  sp.  nov,  closely  allied  to  P . be/la  and  to  P.  sciopbila. 

- R.  nmaiense , sp.  nov. 


ASCENT  OE  A VIRGIN  PEAK  91 

drenched  garments.  Patches  of  snow  still  lay  melting 
in  the  gullies ; the  mists  gathered  and  dispersed 
whimsically.  I would  have  given  a lot  to  have  seen 
these  mountains  bathed  in  sunshine. 

Suddenly  my  attention  was  diverted  by  a loud  snort, 
and  looking  over  the  ridge  I saw  on  the  opposite 
scree,  300  yards  away,  a herd  of  seven  takin 1 
standing  head  to  wind  in  the  driving  mist,  like 
Highland  cattle.  Their  backs  were  to  us,  so  that 
we  had  ample  leisure  to  examine  them,  as  the 
wind  was  coming  up-valley  and  we  were  well  above 
them.  There  were  two  big  bulls,  three  females 
and  two  quite  small  calves.  It  was  a splendid  sight, 
and  I bitterly  regretted  having  left  my  rifle  in 
camp. 

After  watching  them  through  glasses  for  a time  we 
halloed,  and  the  herd  started  up  suddenly  at  the  sound 
and  made  oft'  across  the  scree,  those  great  lumbering 
brutes,  almost  as  big  as  water  buffaloes,  leaping  nimbly 
from  rock  to  rock  like  goats.  Plunging  through  a strip 
of  bamboo  grass,  they  reappeared  strung  out  in  line  on 
the  next  scree  and  were  soon  swallowed  up  in  the 
mist. 

It  was  the  second  time  I had  seen  this  strange  beast 
at  home,  for  I had  been  a member  of  the  expedition 
which  discovered  and  shot  the  first  Budorcas  Bedfordi 
in  Shensi,  five  years  previously.  Then  we  had  hunted 
them  knee-deep  through  the  snow  for  three  days,  in 
the  bitter  cold  of  the  wild  Ch‘in-ling  mountains,  the 
back-bone  of  China,  and  had  seen  a herd  of  over 
thirty. 

Very  little  is  known  of  the  takin’s  habits  or  dis- 

1 Budorcas  taxi  color. 


92  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

tribution  yet.  It  has  been  reported  from  Bhutan,1  Assam, 
South-East  Tibet  and  the  North-East  Frontier,  whence  it 
ranges  into  Ssu-ch‘uan  and  northwards  to  Shensi.  The 
Indian  species  is  known  as  B.  taxicolor , the  Ssu-ch‘uan 
as  B.  tibetanus , the  Shensi  as  B.  Bedfordi ; but  as  the  vast 
jungle-clad  mountain  ranges  between  its  extreme  limits 
are  practically  unknown  ground,  these  may  eventually 
turn  out  to  be  the  same,  or  colour  varieties  of  the  same 
animal.  But  much  remains  to  be  discovered,  especially 
as  regards  the  distribution  of  this  animal,  half-goat, 
half-buffalo.  It  may  yet  be  found  to  extend  down  both 
sides  of  the  Chindwin  river,  for  example,  and  south  of 
the  Zayul  chu,  at  the  head-waters  of  the  Mali  hka 
beyond  Hkamti  Long.  Unless,  however,  it  is  found 
in  Yun-nan  and  more  generally  distributed  over 
Ssu-ch‘uan,  we  may  be  certain  that  its  distribution  is 
discontinuous. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  absolutely  confined  to  the 
Himalayan  ranges,  the  parallel  ranges  of  Upper  Burma 
and  western  China,  and  the  main  divide  across 
China. 

Returning  now  to  the  low  cliffs  and  tumbled  boulders 
up  which  we  had  finally  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the 
ridge,  we  prospected  again  for  plants.  Thickets  of 
bamboo  grass  alternated  with  smooth,  gravelly  slopes 
and  confused  piles  of  boulders,  amongst  which  grew 
many  handsome  flowers  such  as  Cremanthodium  Wardii, 
Polygonum  sp.,  Saxifraga  purpurascens , Cassiope  tnyosn- 
roides,  and  a small  purple  orchid ; mats  of  silken-leafed 

1 The  living  specimen  which  in  recent  years  was  to  be  seen  at  the 
London  Zoo  came  from  Bhutan.  This  animal  died  in  1918. 
There  is  a stuffed  specimen  of  B.  Bedfordi  set  up  in  the  Natural 
History  Museum,  South  Kensington. 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  93 

dwarf  willow  spread  fanwise  over  the  ground,  and 
mangled  junipers  strove  to  rise  above  the  rocks;  even 
a tortured  cherry-tree,  mutilated  almost  beyond  recog- 
nition, and  a Pyrus  maintained  the  fight  against  cold 
and  starvation.  But  the  rhododendrons,  even  the 
most  dwarf,  never  appeared  disfigured.  Their  splendid 
flowers  were  the  most  beautiful  of  all. 

There  was  not,  however,  that  overwhelming  pro- 
fusion of  flowers  here  that  had  so  astonished  me  on 
the  Tibetan  border  in  1911  and  1913. 

We  got  back  to  a dismal  camp,  all  fires  out,  and  the 
rain  continuing  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  by  nightfall 
my  tent  was  the  refuge  of  moths,  beetles  and  flying 
creatures  of  all  kinds. 

Next  morning,  17th  July,  we  started  down  the  ridge, 
reaching  our  third  camp  in  two  hours,  and  Observation 
Camp  two  hours  later.  Here  we  halted  for  a short 
meal,  and  starting  off  again,  reached  Fever  Camp 
before  dusk.  Round  Fever  Camp  the  sodden  mould 
was  now  encumbered  with  scarlet,  yellow  and  purple 
pileate  fungi  spreading  their  poisoned  gills.  Several 
quaint  orchids  and  lifeless-looking  broomrape  were 
in  flower.  Not  far  above  a magnificent  white- 
flowered  rhododendron  ( R . crassum ) was  in  full 
bloom. 

Maintaining  the  pace  down,  we  were  out  of  the 
forest  in  an  hour  next  morning,  great  volumes  of 
cloud  rising  from  the  valley  towards  the  summits  we 
had  left.  We  soon  reached  the  Yawryin  village,  only 
to  learn  that  the  sick  woman  had  died  the  previous 
day.  But  the  old  man  had  recovered,  and  with  tears 
in  his  eyes  thanked  me  for  the  medicine  I had  given 
him. 


94  ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK 

I went  in  to  see  the  dead  woman,  and  in  the 
darkness  of  the  poor  hut  just  made  out  a figure 
wrapped  in  a white  cloth  which  entirely  concealed  it 
except  for  the  hands  crossed  on  the  breast. 

An  aged  hag,  crouched  on  the  mud  floor,  was 
watching  over  it,  wailing  hopelessly  and  wringing  her 
hands ; from  time  to  time  she  ceased  crying  and 
muttered  incantations ; then  she  would  burst  forth 
again  in  mournful  wailing  that  had  in  it  a note  of 
uncontrollable  despair,  dreadful  to  hear.  In  the  heavy 
darkness  beyond,  where  the  embers  of  a fire  glowed, 
a white-haired  old  man  was  cooking  food,  and  several 
children  crawled  about,  playing  in  the  dust,  heedless  of 
the  ruin  round  them.  In  such  gloomy  surroundings, 
with  the  old  witch  beside  it,  the  corpse,  swathed  in 
its  coarse  hempen  winding-sheet,  looked  horribly  like 
an  Egyptian  mummy,  and  I was  glad  to  withdraw  from 
that  fallen  house. 

Outside  some  men  were  hammering  a coffin  together 
— next  day  the  dead  woman  would  be  buried  on  the 
cold  mountain-side. 

Now  the  old  man,  taking  me  by  the  hand,  pointed 
with  shaking  finger. 

“ Two  have  died  in  that  hut,  ta-jcn ,”  he  said,  “ three 
in  that  one.” 

Then  he  broke  down  altogether  and  wept  on  my 
shoulder. 

Leaving  this  village  of  the  dead  the  same  after- 
noon we  descended  to  the  river,  the  men  singing 
as  we  came  down  the  last  hill-side  into  the  semi- 
tropical  warmth  of  the  valley,  glad  to  be  home 
again. 

Crossing  the  river  we  did  not  halt,  but  continued 


ASCENT  OF  A VIRGIN  PEAK  95 

till  nightfall,  by  which  time  we  were  in  the  Ilpimaw 
valley. 

Camping  where  we  halted,  dead  tired,  and  starting 
again  at  daylight,  by  midday  on  19th  July  we  were 
back  at  the  fort  with  our  spoil. 


CHAPTER  VI 


IN  THE  TEMPERATE  RAIN  FOREST 

STANDING  sentinel  over  the  green  valley 
wherein  lay  the  village  of  Hpimaw,  opposite 
the  fort,  rises  a high  limestone  peak,  aloof  and 
frowning.  Towards  the  valley  of  the  Ngawchang  its 
slope,  though  steep,  is  unbroken,  but  facing  the  main 
range  it  falls  away  in  sheer  broken-off  precipices.  On 
this  side  too  it  is  grooved  with  a deep  fissure  filled 
with  forest  and  walled  in  by  great  slabs  of  bare  rock. 
This  is  Laksang  Bum. 

In  the  second  week  of  July  we  set  out  for  this  peak 
— limestone  seems  to  attract  to  itself  all  the  prettiest 
flowers — and  descending  to  the  village  halted  in  a 
rose-scented  lane  for  lunch,  while  we  called  for  fresh 
porters. 

Some  young  girls  who,  pressed  into  service  above, 
had  carried  loads  for  us  down  from  the  fort,  ministered 
to  our  wants  in  the  meantime,  bringing  bamboo 
flagons  of  thick,  heady  liquor,  and  begging  for  beads 
in  return. 

They  are  not,  generally  speaking,  pretty,  these  flat- 
faced, short-statured,  corpulent  Lashi  girls,  but  in  spite 
of  their  unwashed  appearance — nay,  it  is  real  enough — 
they  are,  like  all  the  hill  tribes,  quaintly  picturesque. 

A dark  blue  kilt-like  cotton  kirtle  to  the  knees,  a 
short  jacket  barely  reaching  the  waist,  grey  cloth 
leggings  and  a blue  turban  of  ample  proportions — 

96 


THE  TEMPERATE  RAIN  FOREST  97 

such  is  their  dress  in  the  main,  and  were  their  bulky 
figures  more  shapely  it  would  be  not  unbecoming. 
Beyond  this  they  are  loaded  with  bric-a-brac  indis- 
criminately, like  a Christmas  tree.  Below  the  knee 
are  the  black  rattan  rings  universally  worn  here,  and  in 
addition  heavy  cane  girdles,  threaded  with  white  cowry 
shells,  are  loosely  twisted  round  the  waist.  This  belt 
plays  no  part  in  keeping  the  kirtle  up,  however,  and, 
sagging  low  in  front,  gives  a most  untidy  impression, 
as  it  tries  to  hide  the  breach  between  the  short  jacket 
and  the  kirtle. 

But  the  most  striking  thing  about  them  is  the  vast 
weight  of  blue  bead  necklaces — blue  seems  to  be  their 
favourite  colour — with  which  they  fetter  themselves. 
How  do  they  get  them?  A simple  proceeding  since 
Johnny- Gurkha  came  to  Hpimaw  and  made  love  to  them 
like  the  little  gentleman  he  is.  Before  that  it  must 
have  been  difficult,  for  they  love  not  the  journey  to 
the  Myitkyina  bazaar.  The  ubiquitous  Chinese  pedlar 
no  doubt  aided  them. 

Leaving  the  village,  we  crossed  the  valley  and 
ascended  the  slopes  on  the  other  side;  the  fragrance 
of  lilies  came  to  us  from  the  grass,  and  we  pitched 
camp  on  a little  knoll  at  the  foot  of  the  peak,  amidst 
silvery  cotton  grass  and  tangles  of  bryony.  Here  the 
bracken  grew  seven  feet  high,  vieing  with  purple- 
flowered  meadow-rue 1 ; a few  small  trees,  skerries 
rising  from  the  ferny  sea,  grew  half  submerged. 
Here  and  there  bosses  of  limestone,  cropping  out  ir- 
regularly, were  covered  with  the  woolly  white  wrinkled 
leaves  of  Didissandra,  which  has  violet  lobelia-like 
flowers;  and  a dense  wall  of  jungle,  hung  with  an 
1 A species  like  Thalic/rum  Delavayi. 


98  IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

equally  dense  curtain  of  climbing  plants,  made  the 
ascent  of  the  peak  by  the  gully,  in  appearance  at 
least,  almost  out  of  the  question. 

The  cliff  which  bounded  the  gully  on  one  side, 
however,  was  open,  and  it  was  up  this  ridge,  hugging 
the  fringe  of  the  forest — for  the  other  side  was 
precipitous  in  places  and  required  caution,  the  more 
so  as  the  short  dry  grass  which  clothed  the  ridge  was 
slippery — that  I proposed  to  reach  the  summit. 

In  the  afternoon  blood-blister  flies  gave  us  no 
quarter,  but  as  usual  they  passed  with  the  day,  and 
gave  the  sand-flies  an  innings. 

The  evening  was  fine  and  when  the  moon  rose  over 
the  mountains  it  caught  the  cotton  grass  and  splashed 
the  whole  meadow  with  drops  of  glistening  silver. 
Fire-flies  twinkled  amongst  the  trees,  some  coming  into 
my  tent  to  examine  the  lantern,  as  though  jealous  of 
its  wan  beams.  A deer  barked  close  by,  and  was 
answered  by  another,  and  then  came  a shrill  scream 
from  high  up  in  the  jungle,  as  of  some  animal  in  deadly 
fear. 

Next  morning,  wading  across  the  channel  of  deep 
bracken  which  separated  us  from  the  peak,  we  gained 
the  ridge  and  began  the  ascent.  No  serious  difficulties 
were  encountered  until  nearing  the  summit,  whereupon 
what  had  thus  far  been  just  a very  steep  slope  was 
succeeded  by  broken  precipices  and  rocks,  necessitating 
hand  and  foot  work  with  frequent  traversing  to  turn 
awkward-looking  cliffs;  and  the  summit  was  reached 
in  about  three  hours  without  incident. 

We  were  now  about  10,000  feet  above  sea-level, 
with  uninterrupted  views  all  round,  but  we  could  see 
very  little  on  account  of  the  clouds.  Across  the 


RAIN  FOREST  99 

valley  a white  spot  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  marked 
the  fort,  and  right  at  our  feet  lay  the  village.  But  the 
Ngawchang  hka  was  buried  away  out  of  sight,  and 
the  mountain  ranges  which  enfolded  us  were  heavily 
cloud-capped. 

Several  rhododendrons  were  still  in  flower,  one 
a small  tree  with  large  trusses  of  striking  crimson- 
scarlet  flowers  ( R . agapetum),  growing  along  the  edge 
of  the  forest — this  as  late  as  9th  July ! But  I have 
seen  this  species  in  flower  as  late  as  August ; in  fact  it 
appears  to  flower  twice,  spring  and  summer,  for  I have 
also  found  it  in  flower,  and  nearly  over,  in  May. 

We  descended  by  the  wooded  ravine,  which  though 
steep  gave  secure  hand  and  foot  hold.  On  the  damp 
limestone  clifls,  in  beds  of  moss,  grew  patches  of 
a pretty  little  pink-flow'ered  primula  now  in  seed. 
Pink  and  white  begonias  and  a few  other  flowers 
shone  in  the  festering  darkness  of  the  forest,  but 
mostly,  where  light  filtered  through  from  above  and 
the  awakened  undergrowth  sprang  to  meet  it,  ferns 
carpeted  the  warm  leaf-mould. 

Lower  dowm  the  descent  became  more  difficult  and 
wre  came  to  precipices.  At  last  we  reached  the  bottom, 
and  parting  the  thick  curtain  of  creepers,  which  hung 
in  front  of  the  daylight,  saw  our  camp  on  the  knoll, 
not  far  away.  Joyfully  w'e  plunged  once  more  through 
the  sea  of  bracken,  which  totally  submerged  us,  and 
presently  reached  the  tents. 

Back  in  Hpimaw  after  the  middle  of  July  difficulties 
gathered  thicker.  At  this  time  I was  suffering  from 
a bad  foot  which  kept  me  indoors  for  several  days — I 
had  injured  it  climbing,  and  the  continual  pressure  of 
sodden  boots  had  aggravated  it  till  it  festered.  And 


TOO 


IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

now  came  T‘ung-ch‘ien  weeping  and  asking  that  he 
might  go  home. 

Poor  Hung ! I think  it  was  the  first  time  I had 
seen  him  disheartened,  for  he  was  a cheerful  soul,  and 
merry.  First  he  told  me  that  his  little  daughter  had 
died  in  far-away  Li-kiang — but  that  was  months  ago, 
while  we  were  still  in  Yun-nan,  and  could  hardly  be  the 
cause  of  his  immediate  distress ; for  his  grief  was 
poignant. 

“ Don’t  you  remember,  ta-jen , when  we  were  in 
sunny  Yun-nan  in  the  spring — we  passed  some  Tibetan 
horse  dealers  returning  from  Mandalay  on  the  road 
that  day,  and  you  greeted  them — how  I wept  one 
evening  ? I knew  about  it  at  that  time.” 

“ Then  it  is  too  late,  Hung  ! Why  do  you  want  to 
go  back  to  Li-kiang  now  ? See,  we  shall  only  be  here 
a few  months  longer;  stay  with  me  till  the  autumn 
and  we  will  go  back  to  Yun-nan  together  next 
year.” 

Then  he  told  me  that  my  Lashi  collectors  had  been 
unkind  to  him  on  the  road,  so  I scolded  them  soundly, 
and  next  morning  after  a night’s  rest — what  opiate  can 
induce  an  oblivion  like  eight  hours’  peaceful  sleep  to 
ease  a bruised  heart  ? — Hung  said  he  would  stay  with 
me  till  I left.  And  from  that  moment  he  began  to 
recover  his  old  spirits. 

There  were  family  troubles  at  the  fort  too,  a dooly- 
bearer  having  unwisely  mixed  himself  up  in  an  affaire 
with  a Lashi  matron. 

They  are  queer  folk,  the  Lashis,  impatient  of 
restraint,  restless  under  the  closer  surveillance  of  the 
sircar,  which/^mce  the  Yun-nan  Government  coquetted 
with  the  villagers  of  Hpimaw,  has  been  forced  into 


RAIN  FOREST  ioi 

a programme  of  direct  administration  which  otherwise 
might  well  have  been  long  postponed. 

The  commandant,  missing  one  of  his  followers, 
heard  by  the  merest  chance  one  morning  that  he  was 
a prisoner  in  the  village,  awaiting  execution,  which  was 
fixed  for  noon  that  very  day;  whereupon  two  sepoys, 
rushing  down,  arrived  just  in  time  to  save  him. 

Then  was  unfolded  the  usual  story  of  love,  intrigue 
and  revenge.  It  appeared  that  the  wife  of  a village 
elder,  growing  tired  of  him,  had  found  another  lover 
in  the  dooly- bearer,  and  that  these  two  had  enjoyed 
each  other’s  love. 

Discovery  followed ; the  woman  had  been  severely 
beaten,  and  the  co-respondent,  for  all  that  he  was  an 
Indian — perhaps  the  more  readily  on  that  account — 
summarily  condemned  to  death.  And  he  would 
certainly  have  been  barbarously  beheaded  but  for  the 
prompt  arrival  of  the  relief  party. 

The  woman’s  story  was  to  the  effect  that  her 
husband  was  an  old  man,  and,  as  she  bluntly  told  the 
commandant,  “ no  good.”  Baring  her  back,  she 
exhibited  the  w'eals  and  bruises  inflicted  on  her  for 
her  conduct,  and  pleaded  that  she  had  but  enjoyed  the 
embraces  of  her  lover,  a function  her  ageing  husband 
could  no  longer  fulfil. 

Two  men  who  were  brought  up  in  chains,  self- 
appointed  judges  and  would-be  executioners  of  the 
wretched  dooly- bearer,  asked,  with  an  assumption  of 
haughtiness,  by  what  right  the  commandant  interfered 
in  the  affair.  It  was  the  law  in  China  that  a man 
taken  in  adultery  was  executed,  and  they  adhered  to 
that  law,  since  Hpimaw  wras  under  Chinese  dominion  ! 

This  was  a new  aspect  of  the  case,  but  the  prisoner’s 


102  IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

ignorance,  real  or  assumed,  of  the  political  status  of 
Hpimaw  could  not  condone  this  reckless  action,  and 
they  were  naturally  locked  up  till  the  civil  officer, 
who  resided  at  Htawgaw,  three  marches  down  the 
valley,  could  inquire  into  the  case. 

The  incident  threw  some  light  on  the  attitude  of  the 
Lashis  towards  ourselves  and  China;  either  they  were 
unaware  of  the  real  significance  of  our  presence  in  the 
valley,  or  by  no  means  reconciled  to  it. 

Towards  the  end  of  July  there  came  one  of  those 
sudden  and  inexplicable  breaks  in  the  rains,  character- 
istic of  the  hills.  By  night  it  poured  as  steadily  as 
ever,  but  by  day,  in  spite  of  the  cloud  blanket  resting 
soddenly  on  the  mountains,  burying  their  summits, 
owing  to  some  cross-current  of  air,  some  subtle  re- 
adjustment of  pressures,  the  rain  held  off  for  a week, 
while  the  sun  even  peeped  out  occasionally. 

Then  after  a tempestuous  sunset  behind  the 
Lawkhaung  divide  the  clouds  would  close  their  ranks, 
and  pressing  heavily  down  on  the  valley,  envelop  the 
fort  in  drenching  rain  for  the  night.  They  were  grand 
sometimes,  those  struggles  at  dusk  between  the  retreat- 
ing sun  and  the  onswarming  clouds.  In  a river  of  gold 
the  setting  sun,  defiant  to  the  last,  would  flash  its 
fiery  signals  across  the  valley,  and  disappear,  while  the 
wicked-looking  cloud  waves  quickly  closed  all  loop- 
holes, and  rushing  up  the  valley,  beat  furiously  against 
the  mountains. 

It  was  on  just  such  a night,  when  we  were  sitting 
down  to  dinner,  that  the  bugle  sounded  the  alarm. 

I heard  the  tramp  of  feet,  and  men  came  running 
past  the  bungalow.  It  was  as  thick  as  a London 
fog  outside,  and  the  finest  drizzle  was  falling. 


RAIN  FOREST  103 

though  heavy  splashes  dripped  from  the  sodden 
trees. 

Away  down  the  hill  on  the  lower  shoulder  you 
heard  the  stamp  and  jingle  of  saddling  up  in  the 
mule  lines,  and  presently  the  pack-mules  came  trotting 
up  the  path,  with  the  water  glistening  on  their  harness. 

There  was  a squad  kneeling  at  the  entrance  to  the 
fort,  with  fixed  bayonets — they  shone  dully  through 
the  lamp-lit  mist,  and  a tense  silence  wrapped  every- 
thing now  as  in  a shroud,  not  altogether  due  to  the 
thick  mist  which  seemed  to  be  slowly  but  surely  choking 
the  whole  world  to  death.  The  Asiatic  is  not  less 
brave  than  the  European ; but  in  the  long  empty  spaces 
of  the  night  his  nerves  strain  and  snap  like  parting 
hawsers,  and  he  crumples  up. 

For  he  fears  silence  more  than  anything  in  the  world. 

A clicking  sound  from  above  made  me  look  up,  to  see 
the  jacketed  muzzle  of  a machine  gun  thrust  menac- 
ingly through  a loop-hole  at  an  angle  of  the  fort,  and  a 
second  looked  sideways  down  the  bare  slope  from  the 
keep  at  the  opposite  angle.  A row  of  dark  faces  dimly 
outlined  against  the  slit  in  the  diabolical  gloom  gave  to 
the  whole  the  appearance  of  a cruel  mouth  grinning 
evilly. 

Then  the  commandant  nodded  his  head,  and  spoke 
to  the  subadar.  The  order  was  given  to  close,  and 
the  bugle  rang  out  once  more. 

Of  course  it  was  all  play,  or  let  us  say  dress  re- 
hearsal; but  the  annual  crop  of  rumours  from  over 
the  frontier  had  been  coming  in  and  included  the 
oft-advertised  march  of  imaginary  Chinese  legions  on 
lonely  Hpimaw. 

1 often  think  that  if  those  high-placed  mandarins  in 


io4  IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

Yun-nan  who  considered  they  had  a grievance  when  we 
occupied  Hpimaw  had  themselves  resided  there  for  six 
months,  their  verdict  would  have  been : “ For  God’s 

sake  take  the  cursed  place  ! ” 

The  Gurkhas,  it  may  be  remarked,  are  very  fond  of 
flowers — they  have  learnt  to  love  them  in  their  own 
mountains  in  far-away  Nepal,  I expect.  I often  met 
parties  of  them  returning  laden  with  bunches  of 
rhododendrons  and  golden  marigolds,  which  they  stuck 
in  glasses  of  water  to  decorate  the  fort.  / 

The  limit  of  plant  adolescence  had  now  been  reached, 
and  everything  was  growing  and  spreading  enormously. 
The  turgid  undergrowth  stood  man-high,  the  trees 
were  covered  with  varied  flowers,  not  their  own. 
The  thick  pile  of  fern-like  moss  which  covered  every 
tree  trunk  and  every  bamboo  haulm  was  a hive  of 
suburban  life,  a world  apart  from  the  busy  life  of  the 
larger  forest. 

Probing  into  its  green  depths,  you  found  the  most 
entrancing  creatures  in  hiding,  as  when  you  lift  up  the 
fringe  of  seaweed  lining  some  sapphire  rock  pool ; and 
no  doubt  they  were  equally  astonished  at  the  violation 
of  their  sanctuary. 

Here  I brought  to  light  a quaint  green  stick-insect 
cleverly  disguised  as  a sprig  of  moss,  for  which,  indeed, 
I mistook  him  till  he  showed  himself  capable  of  indepen- 
dent motion.  Here  too  in  the  green  underworld  of  moss 
were  snails  shaped  like  French  horns,  and  slender  pink 
worms,  leeches — but  of  them  more  anon — beetles, 
spiders — oh  ! a menagerie  of  creatures ; the  hive  pulsed 
with  silent  life.  Beneath  an  unruffled  surface,  what 
struggles  took  place  between  creature  and  creature,  each 
an  idea  in  the  Divine  Mind,  each  labouring  under  a 


RAIN  FOREST  105 

blind  impulse  to  increase  its  numbers  without  regard  for 
others;  what  raids,  what  devilries,  what  tragedies! 

Then  came  fever  again,  and  for  several  days  I had  to 
depend  on  my  Lashi  collectors ; nor  was  their  enterprise 
great.  There  were  wet  nights  when  the  rain  pattered 
dismally  on  the  roof,  grey  mornings,  the  dripping  jungle 
only  half  seen,  and  flying  cloud  ; but  sometimes  a gleam 
of  sunshine  and  a few  hours’  fine  weather  in  the  afternoon 
before  the  watery  sky  suffocated  the  sun  again. 

Below  the  fort  the  ridge  falls  away  steeply  to  the 
valleys  on  either  side  and  the  flank  facing  the  village  is 
thickly  wooded  with  small  trees  and  scrub — rhodo- 
dendrons, oaks,  willows,  Hamamelis,  poplar,  barberry, 
tangled  up  with  miscellaneous  undergrowth  and  climb- 
ing plants.  The  rock  where  it  crops  out  is  seen  to  be 
limestone,  and  likely  enough  this  ridge  was  once 
continuous  with  the  isolated  sugar-loaf  peak  across  the 
valley,  Laksang  Bum,  already  alluded  to,  till  cut 
through  by  streams  flowing  down  from  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  Hpimaw  pass. 

The  flank  away  from  the  village  falls  as  steeply  to 
another  stream,  but,  facing  south,  is  not  w'ooded ; it  is 
clothed  instead  with  bracken  and  grass,  whence  spring 
many  white  and  yellow  flowered  Zingiberacea?,  besides 
tall  white  lilies  one  year  and  yellow  lilies  the  next,  at 
least  so  I was  told — certainly  there  were  only  yellow 
ones  (L.  nepalense ) while  I was  there;  and  since  both 
are  biennials  there  is  nothing  incredible  in  the  alterna- 
tion. In  rocky  parts,  as  the  slope  increases,  scattered 
oaks,  alders  and  pines  struggle  against  gravity,  flinging 
a network  of  rugged  roots  over  the  slipping  rocks.  It 
is  not  till  you  get  right  dowm  to  the  bottom  in  the  cool 
depths  of  the  narrow^  glen,  where  the  stream  cascades 


1 06  IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

over  slaty  ledges,  that  forest  growth  occurs.  Here  I 
found  another  patch  of  Primula  seclusa. 

This  contrast  is  typical  of  the  whole  region,  and  not 
a mere  accident.  North  slopes  are  forested,  south 
slopes  are  grass-clad,  so  that  looking  north  one  sees  all 
the  south-facing  slopes  at  once,  and  the  mountains 
appear  somewhat  bare,  but  looking  south,  mainly  north- 
facing slopes  are  exposed,  and  they  appear  well  timbered. 

On  fine  evenings  the  Gurkhas  used  to  play  vigorous 
“soccer”  on  the  small  undulating  parade  ground  cut 
out  of  the  hill-side,  and  I sometimes  joined  them  in  a 
game,  till  my  feet  got  too  sore  from  climbing.  It  was 
a pleasant  change,  and  home-like ! 

While  exploring  the  wooded  slope  below  the  fort  I 
found  as  late  as  the  last  day  of  July  the  glorious  crimson 
Rhododendron  agapetum  still  in  flower.  This  conjured 
up  visions  of  possible  English  gardens  flaming  with 
these  magnificent  trees  from  March  till  midsummer. 
There  were  some  ground  orchids  in  the  wood  too, 
including  Cypripedium  arietinum  and  another  with  twin 
heart-shaped  leaves  lying  flat  on  the  rocks,  variegated 
and  glistening,  as  though  cut  from  frosted  glass. 

Then  there  silently  arose  just  in  front  of  me  a brown 
flapping  creature  which  zigzagged  through  the  trees, 
sawing  a little  up  and  down,  before  it  came  to  rest 
abruptly,  and— melted  away.  Had  it  been,  as  I at  first 
thought,  a bird,  there  was  nothing,  save  perhaps  its 
silent  movements,  like  those  of  a night-jar,  remarkable 
about  it.  But  no  bird  I ever  met  could  alight  thus  on 
a bush  and  immediately  disappear,  noiselessly.  Indeed 
it  was  not  a bird;  its  flight,  its  manner  of  settling,  its 
power  of  spontaneously  blending  with  its  surroundings, 
all  betrayed  it  for  what  it  was.  It  was  a butterfly  ; and 


RAIN  FOREST  107 

with  the  realisation  at  once  the  incredible  size  of  the 
insect  struck  me.  But  I never  captured  one  of  those 
skulkers,  though  I saw  several.  What  I did  capture  in 
this  copse  was  a new  species  of  shrew'.1 

It  was  here  too,  in  wet,  mossy  nooks  amongst  the 
limestone  rocks  of  this  slope,  that,  early  in  July,  I 
first  found  a pretty  little  pink-flowered  primula  new' 
to  me,  not  unlike  P.  malacoides , but  less  tall. 

And  so  came  August.  The  commandant  had  gone 
on  tour  again  and  I was  alone  with  a tiny  puppy 
he  had  given  me  as  companion.  The  mails  arrived 
regularly  once  a week,  but  their  news  was  six  weeks 
old,  and  no  shadow  of  the  breaking  storm  had  as 
yet  darkened  Hpimaw.  The  entry  in  my  diary  for 
4th  August  states  that  it  was  raining  day  and  night 
and  w'e  w'ere  living  in  the  clouds.  I had  been  in 
bed  all  day  with  fever,  unable  to  take  any  food, 
but  was  out  again  on  the  6th,  when  I discovered 
a dainty  little  meadow-rue  on  the  open  limestone 
slope. 

At  last  I made  up  my  mind  to  abandon  my  botanical 
work  at  Hpimaw  and  return  to  England  in  order 
to  regain  health  prior  to  another  attempt ; but  I 
would  not  go  by  the  direct  road  to  Myitkyina — I 
conceived  a better  ending  to  the  trip.  I would  march 
northw'ards  right  along  the  North-East  Frontier, 
amongst  the  w'ild  mountains  where  rise  the  Laking, 
Mekh  and  Ahkyang  rivers,  cross  to  the  plain  of  Hkamti, 

1 Blarinella  Ward'd,  Thomas,  sp.  nov.  This  belongs  to  a new 
genus  of  shrews,  related  to  the  earless  shrews  of  North  America,  first 
distinguished  by  Mr  Oldfield  Thomas,  F.R.S.,  of  the  Natural  History 
Museum  ; the  other  two  known  species  of  the  genus,  B.  quadraticauda 
and  B.  griseldi,  are  both  Chinese.  B.  IVardii  extends  the  genus  west- 
wards. 


108  IN  THE  TEMPERATE 

and  thence  make  my  way  over  the  mountains  to  Assam. 
This  plan  decided  on,  I at  once  set  about  making 
preparations. 

On  1 2th  August  the  clouds  lifted  slightly,  and 
I started  on  a last  climb  to  the  Hpimaw  pass. 

A foul,  musty  odour  now  rose  from  the  leaf-mould 
in  the  jungle  and  a magic  growth  of  meadow  flowers, 
not  unlike  the  meadows  of  the  Yun-nan  mountains, 
but  less  tall,  covered  the  open  hill-sides  which  previ- 
ously had  been  bare  save  for  a thin  carpet  of  turf ; 
but  the  glory  of  the  rhododendrons  was  past,  their 
place  taken  by  these  strangers  on  the  threshold  of 
the  forest — tall  meadow-rue,  twining  Codonopsis  with 
yellow  bell  flowers,  masses  of  Astilbe,  like  giant 
meadowsweet,  chestnut-leafed  Rodgersia,  Polygonum, 
Pedicularis,  geranium,  Corydalis,  royal  fern  and  crimson 
spikes  of  Epilobium. 

Buddleia  limitanea  was  in  flower  at  10,000  feet, 
and  the  swollen  infant  streams  were  overgrown  with 
balsams,  marsh  marigold  and  monkey-flower,  jostling 
each  other  for  place,  with  blue-flowered  Cynoglossum 
and  colonies  of  lanky  Polygonum.  There  were  more 
small  birds  about  now,  some  of  them  very  pretty 
little  fellows,  whose  queer  cries  were  pleasant  to 
hear. 

By  17th  August  all  was  ready  for  our  departure, 
and  on  that  day  I dispatched  an  advance  guard  of 
eight  porters. 

All  transport  on  the  North-East  Frontier  and  through- 
out the  Burmese  hinterland  is  done  by  porters — there 
are  no  pack-animals  of  any  kind,  and  no  roads  either. 
In  western  China  and  throughout  Tibet,  on  the  other 
hand,  though  the  roads  are  appalling,  all  transport 


RAIN  FOREST  109 

is  done  by  mules,  ponies,  or  yak — a very  different 
state  of  affairs.  It  is  commonly  said  that  only  beggars 
walk  in  Tibet ! 

T‘ung  was  sick  and  a little  sulky,  but  the  idea 
of  seeing  new  country  so  cheered  me  that  I felt 
better  than  I had  done  for  some  time.  Alas ! little 
did  I realise  how  vastly  same  is  all  this  country  for 
many  weary  marches,  at  least  all  the  way  to  Assam. 
However,  a real  break,  promised  for  several  days, 
had  come  in  the  rains,  the  sun  shone  from  a blue 
sky — it  was  the  hottest  day  we  had  had,  81-3°  F.  in 
the  shade  at  8000  feet ! — and  watching  the  changeful 
sunset  where  invisible  air  currents  were  reshuffling 
the  gilded  clouds,  I felt  that  we  might  yet  achieve 
something  from  the  wreck  of  the  season. 

On  1 8th  August  the  main  body,  consisting  of  T‘ung 
(Lao-niu  had  left  me),  my  Maru  interpreter,  Lashi 
servant,  ten  porters  and  myself  finally  left  Hpimaw. 
There  was  a mail  due  that  morning  and  I delayed 
starting  till  it  should  arrive. 

At  last  the  mules  appeared  toiling  slowly  up  the 
winding  path,  and  I followed  them  up  to  the  fort, 
inside  which  was  the  post  office,  to  get  my  letters ; 
but  to  my  disappointment,  receiving  only  a post  card, 
I immediately  turned  my  back  on  Hpimaw  and  followed 
the  porters  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  I could  go. 


CHAPTER  VII 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  CROSSBOW 

TAKING  the  path  down  the  Hpimaw  valley, 
which  skirted  now  golden  rice-fields,  we 
crossed  the  spur,  thrust  up  like  a wall 
between  the  Hpimaw  stream  and  the  Ngawchang  as 
they  converge  on  the  confluence,  and  dropped  into  the 
latter  valley. 

Here  we  were  soon  beyond  the  last  paddy-fields, 
from  which  fat  Lashi  women  were  busy  uprooting 
alien  weeds,  and  thenceforward  saw  no  more  level 
ground,  save  here  and  there  wee  terraces  high  up 
enfolded  in  the  river  bends,  till  we  reached  the  Shan 
plain  six  weeks  later. 

Everywhere  the  steep  slopes  are  clad  with  coarse 
grass  through  which  bare  rock  thrusts  itself  in  places, 
but  there  is  a fair  amount  of  hill  cultivation  for  the 
first  few  miles.  Scattered  over  the  hill-sides  are  pine- 
trees,  oaks,  and  Alnus  nepalensis , giving  to  the  valley 
a park-like  appearance. 

The  maize  crop  was  now  ripening,  and  many  are 
the  devices  employed  to  scare  away  the  monkeys 
which  raid  the  fields  by  night.  On  the  very  steepest 
slopes  a small  hut  is  built  at  the  top,  with  a long 
diving-board  jutting  out,  thus  overlooking  the  entire 
slope  below.  In  this  forward  observing-post  one  or 
two — generally  two — people  take  up  position  for  the 
night,  and  when  the  monkeys  come,  sally  forth  and 


no 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  CROSSBOW  m 

drive  them  away  by  making  strange  noises  and 
throwing  things  at  them.  In  the  slack  intervals 
between  raids  they  make  love. 

A more  ingenious  method  is  to  erect  bamboo  poles 
with  split  tops,  here  and  there,  attaching  a cord  to 
each.  When  the  cord  is  jerked  the  split  bamboo 
clacks  lustily,  and  by  tying  all  the  cords  together  and 
leading  the  one  line  to  the  hut  the  clappers  can  with 
one  tug  be  set  clacking  simultaneously.  Thus  all  the 
sentry  has  to  do  is  to  sit  in  the  hut  and  give  the  line 
a sharp  tug  every  few  minutes,  when  alarming  noises 
start  up  unexpectedly  from  every  corner  of  the  taungya. 
The  disadvantage  of  this  method  is  that  as  only  one 
is  required  on  sentry  duty,  the  prospects  for  love- 
making  are  not  so  good. 

Tins  are  sometimes  used  instead  of  split  bamboos, 
and  where  a stream  runs  through  the  taungya , the 
line  is  stretched  out  from  bank  to  bank  with  a float, 
in  the  shape  of  a log  of  wood  attached  to  it,  dangling 
in  the  water.  The  rush  of  the  torrent  against  the 
float,  flinging  it  this  way  and  that,  jerks  the  rope 
spasmodically,  which  in  turn  rattles  tins  or  clacks 
bamboos  all  over  the  field ; thus  a more  or  less  con- 
tinuous noise  is  kept  up,  breaking  out  now  here,  now 
there  with  whimsical  uncertainty. 

But  the  most  ingenious  apparatus  of  all  was  w'orked 
by  means  of  a hollow  log,  pivoted  in  the  bed  of  a 
torrent.  As  the  stream  filled  the  reservoir  with  water, 
the  log  tipped  up,  emptied  out  the  water  and  returned 
heavily  to  its  original  position,  hitting  a stretched 
bamboo  cord  a shrewd  blow  as  it  fell  back.  This 
in  turn  jerked  a cord  attached  to  all  the  clappers, 
which  clacked  away  out  on  the  taungya  every  few 


1 12  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

minutes  as  the  trough  filled  and  fell,  emptied  and 
rose. 

In  the  evening  we  reached  a considerable  village 
called  Gaulam — there  were  both  Lashis  and  Yawyins 
here.  It  is  prettily  situated  in  the  mouth  of  a V- 
shaped  gully,  on  a shelving  fan  of  gravel  spread  out 
by  the  stream,  the  big  sixty-foot  huts  raised  on  piles 
sheltered  by  palms  and  walnut-trees,  with  tangled 
hedges  of  cucumber  plants  from  which  hang  golden 
fruits  like  bananas.  Below  the  river  chatters  merrily 
by,  in  a broad,  shingly  bed,  before  entering  the 
gorge. 

Clapper , clapper , clack,  clack  went  the  monkey 
scares,  shaken  by  the  tumbling  waters  of  the  torrent. 
As  the  full  moon  rose,  flooding  the  valley  in  golden 
light,  troops  of  monkeys  came  out  of  the  black  jungle 
above,  and  we  heard  the  shrill  cries  of  the  children, 
and  the  clap , clackety , clap  all  through  the  night, 
driving  them  back. 

The  temperature  fell  only  to  65°  F.,  but  the  air  was 
raw  after  a damp  night. 

Though  the  next  day  opened  with  drizzling  rain, 
the  sun  quickly  came  through,  and  it  was  muggy  in 
the  valley. 

We  marched  to  Kang-fang  in  the  morning,  crossing 
several  deep  gullies  filled  with  a confusion  of  shrubs, 
brambles  and  trees,  strung  together  and  often 
smothered  beneath  an  immense  tangle  of  climbing 
fern,  Polygonum  and  Leptosodon,  whose  delicate  fairy 
bells  of  pale  violet  colour  swung  mutely  on  the 
breeze. 

Gorgeous  butterflies  sported  in  the  sunshine,  and  a 
plague  of  flies  tormented  us.  Where  there  was  any 


A Yavvyin  Lisu  Family  on  the  Burma  Frontier. 

I he  girl  on  the  right  is  wearing  the  striped  and  tasselled  head-cloth  of  the  Yawyins. 


THE  CROSSBOW  113 

cultivation  it  was  chiefly  millet  and  maize,  with  patches 
of  tobacco  and  cucumber  round  the  villages. 

There  is  no  flat  ground  anywhere,  not  so  much  as 
to  pitch  a tent  on,  save  in  the  river  bed  where  the 
shrinking  waters  have  laid  bare  a pebble  bank. 

Kang-fang  stands  on  the  left  bank,  the  river  being 
crossed  by  a cane  suspension  bridge ; thenceforward 
we  kept  to  the  right  bank  of  the  Ngawchang.  Kang- 
fang  is  also  the  last  village  up  the  valley  where 
Chinese  are  met  with,  and  a depot  for  storing  the 
coffin  planks  which  are  brought  down  from  the  forests 
to  be  carried  into  China. 

This  coffin  plank  industry  is  of  some  importance 
on  the  frontier,  and  considering  the  rapidity  with 
which  the  trees  are  being  destroyed,  it  is  strange  that 
the  Indian  Government  has  taken  no  steps  to  regulate 
the  export  of  planks  or  protect  the  tree. 

Moreover,  the  timber  might  prove  of  value  for  other 
purposes  besides  that  of  making  coffins,  and  though 
the  inaccessibility  of  these  forests  would  prohibit  the 
export  of  timber  to  Myitkyina,  the  tree  might  be  intro- 
duced elsewhere. 

The  tree  in  question  is  a magnificent  juniper, 
which  grows  upwards  of  150  feet  high  and  20  feet 
in  girth  at  the  base.  It  is  not  found  in  the  Ngaw- 
chang valley  below  about  6000  feet,  nor  much  above 
8000  feet,  and  occurs  scattered  or  in  groves  probably 
all  the  way  up  the  North-East  Frontier.  The  finest 
specimens  I came  across  were  confined  to  the  remote 
forests  and  gorges  around  the  Wulaw  Pass. 

The  Chinese  name  is  bsiang-mu-shu — that  is, 
“ scented-wood  tree  ” — and  T£ung  assured  me  that  a 
conifer  we  had  seen  growing  amongst  arid  rocks  in 


H 


1 14  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

the  stark  gorges  of  the  Tibetan  Mekong  in  1913  is  the 
same  tree  as  the  one  which  is  cut  here,  an  identification 
I am  inclined  to  doubt.1 

The  juniper  is  cut  when  the  wood,  as  judged  by 
its  scent,  is  ripe,  it  being  then  anything  from  twenty 
to  eighty  years  of  age ; the  planks  are  of  a size 
corresponding  to  the  great  size  of  the  tree,  the 
average  dimensions  being — length,  eight  to  ten  feet, 
breadth  two  feet,  thickness  one  inch,  giving  a weight 
of  100  to  140  lbs.  when  freshly  cut,  though  not  more 
than  60  to  80  lbs.  when  dry. 

Chinese  carpenters  come  over  from  T‘eng-yueh,  a 
city  of  western  Yun-nan,  and  cut  the  trees  themselves, 
hiring  coolies  to  carry  the  planks  back  to  China,  as 
many  as  150  being  exported  in  a good  season.  But 
some  years,  when  the  rice  and  maize  crops  fail  on 
the  North-East  Frontier,  they  do  not  come  at  all. 

The  price  of  the  planks  rises  rapidly  as  you  recede 
from  their  home.  At  the  source  they  are  sold  for 
Tls.  1 2 each.  From  here  they  are  floated  down  the 
Ngawchang  when  the  water  is  shallow,  ten  together, 
fifty  planks  requiring  only  five  men  to  attend  them 
on  their  twenty  days’  journey. 

At  Kang-fang  they  are  stocked  for  the  winter,  and 
in  early  summer,  when  the  snow  has  melted  on  the 
Feng-shui-ling,  are  carried  on  the  backs  of  coolies 
to  Yun-nan,  each  man  carrying  a single  plank,  taking 
about  ten  days  between  Kang-fang  and  T‘eng-yueh. 

1 Wilson  mentions  buried  wood  of  Cunninghamia  lanceolata  as  called 
h slang- mu- shu  in  Ssu-ch‘uan.  Of  course  the  name  might  be  applied 
to  any  scented  wood.  (See  A Naturalist  in  Western  China,  by  E.  H. 
Wilson.) 

2 See  Chapter  III. 


THE  CROSSBOW  115 

The  minimum  price  of  a coffin  in  T‘eng-yueh  being 
about  Tls.  50,  and  the  cost  of  four  boards  landed 
in  T‘eng-yueh  only  about  Tls.  20,  good  profits  are 
realised. 

Why  the  “ scented  wood  ” is  so  valued  in  China 
for  making  coffins  is  explained  by  the  passion  the 
Chinese  have  for  exhuming  their  corpses  and  burying 
them  elsewhere.  This  is  the  remedy  whenever  the 
least  hint,  as  reflected  in  the  distress  of  the  departed 
spirit,  suggests  that  a site  not  in  accordance  with 
feng-sbuiy  otherwise  “ wind-and-water,”  or  luck,  was 
selected  for  the  grave. 

Geomancers,  though  dabbling  in  inhuman  affairs, 
are,  after  all,  themselves  only  human,  and  sometimes 
make  mistakes,  though  no  Chinaman  would  think  of 
burying  a relation  without  first  consulting  a geomancer. 

When  it  becomes  plain,  through  the  continued  ill 
luck  of  the  relations,  that  the  departed  spirit  really 
is  ill  at  ease,  then  the  body  is  promptly  exhumed  and 
buried  in  a more  favourable  position. 

Chinese  graves  are  often  situated  amidst  the  most 
romantic  surroundings,  on  wooded  hill-sides  shaded  by 
funereal  cypress,  the  sward  strewn  with  dwarf  irises, 
crimson  rhododendrons  afire  all  round.  But  on  the 
great  hazy  plains  more  prosaically  they  pimple  the 
landscape  like  mole-hills. 

Tls.  50  seems  a good  deal  to  give  for  a coffin,  but 
the  Chinese  have  an  exaggerated  respect  for  the  dead 
which  reacts  distressingly  on  the  living,  ff  there  is 
one  thing  universal  in  China  which  shouts  aloud  for 
reform,  it  is  the  gross  luxury  in  which  the  dead  are 
ushered  into  the  next  world,  leaving  the  account  to 
be  settled  by  those  remaining  behind. 


1 16  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

Thing  inveighed  bitterly  against  these  things.  He 
had  recently  lost  a mother-in-law,  for  Tls.  150 — a 
considerable  sum  for  a small  trader,  including  the 
provision  of  coffin,  mourners,  a feast  to  all  his  friends, 
new  clothes,  crackers  to  keep  off  devils,  and  a band ; 
but  perhaps  it  was  worth  it. 

At  Kang-fang  we  crossed  the  river  by  cane  suspen- 
sion bridge  to  another  village,  consisting  of  half-a-dozen 
scattered  huts.  Pursuing  our  way  up  the  right  bank, 
sometimes  in  the  river  bed,  where  the  Lashis  stopped 
to  sharpen  their  dabs  on  specially  selected  stones,  we 
entered  a lovely  gorge,  forested  to  the  water’s  edge ; 
here  the  river  was  quite  forty  yards  broad,  and  shallow, 
chattering  beryl-clear  over  shining  pebbles. 

Just  below  this  gorge  the  Hpawte  river  enters 
the  Ngawchang  on  the  left  bank.  By  following  up 
the  Hpawte  hka,  the  Chimili  (12,000  feet),  the  last 
accessible  pass  direct  to  the  Salween  from  Burmese 
territory,  is  reached. 

Climbing  over  a steep  cliff  we  descended  to  the 
river,  and  struggling  knee-deep  across  a boisterous 
torrent  camped  on  a sand  spit  in  the  river  bed. 
From  the  damp  cliffs  hung  sprays  of  orange  orchids, 
and  the  long,  forked  tongues  of  Gleichenia  liniaris ; 
bunches  of  striped  violet  Chirita  peeped  from  amongst 
nests  of  spearhead-shaped,  downy  leaves,  and  the 
mottled  velvet  leaves  of  Colocasia  sp.  formed  a beautiful 
mosaic;  here  and  there  were  bunches  of  gorgeously 
coloured  balsams,  and  the  spikes  of  a Dendrobium 
studded  with  orange-yellow  flowers. 

At  dusk  a woman,  followed  by  a little  girl  dragging 
a reluctant  dog  at  the  end  of  a string,  waded  the 
torrent  more  confidently  than  we  had  done,  picking 


THE  CROSSBOW  117 

her  way  over  the  gravel  bar  where  the  water  was 
rough,  but  shallower;  while  I went  into  the  river 
for  a short  swim  above  the  rapid.  There  is  a single 
plank  bridge  over  the  torrent  a few  hundred  yards 
up-stream,  spanning  a gorge,  but  the  ford  saves 
distance. 

Then  came  supper  under  the  stars,  the  temperature, 
sheltered  by  the  trees,  being  65°  F. 

Out  of  the  darkness  strange  winged  creatures  fly 
into  the  wan  halo  of  light  cast  by  the  lantern,  and 
commit  suicide  in  the  condensed  milk;  slender-bodied, 
long-legged  stick-insects  follow,  and  hopping  moths 
of  brilliant  hue. 

The  start  was  delayed  on  20th  August  owing  to 
the  discovery  that  the  men  had  not  provided  sufficient 
rice.  However,  we  heard  news  of  a cache  in  a Yawyin 
village  above,  and  having  climbed  up  to  it  found 
several  bags  in  a hut.  Two  of  these  we  commandeered, 
leaving  a fabulous  sum  in  payment  to  salve  our 
conscience. 

Then  another  delay  occurred,  the  rest  of  the  porters 
being  discerned  in  the  distance  climbing  straight  up 
the  flank  of  the  mountain,  as  though  to  cross  the 
Imaw  Bum  range  and  come  down  into  the  ’Nmai 
valley  direct,  instead  of  continuing  up  the  Ngawchang 
and  so  into  the  Laking  valley  over  the  Wulaw  Pass.1 
By  the  time  we  had  recalled  them  the  day  was  half 
spent;  it  was  drizzling  too,  the  mountains  swathed 
in  mist. 

We  had  a fair  amount  of  climbing  up  and  down, 

1 The  Wulaw  Pass  is  not  on  the  main  Salween-Irrawaddy  divide, 
but  separates  the  basins  of  two  rivers  both  flowing  down  to  the 
Irrawaddy  from  that  divide.  It  is  actually  a ridge,  not  a col. 


1 18  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

often  in  thick  forest.  The  undergrowth  consisted 
mostly  of  ferns,  flowers  being  rather  rare  in  the  semi- 
darkness. Here  and  there  we  found  a small  monks- 
hood, or  species  of  Strobilanthes,  or  of  orange-flowered 
Globba,  and  the  huge  umbrella-shaped  leaf  of  an 
Amorphophallus,  or  the  umbels  of  scarlet  and  black 
berries  of  Panax  ginseng.  Wherever  there  was  water, 
rank  masses  of  gorgeous  balsams  glared,  and  the  tree 
trunks  hung  out  orchid  sprays  and  the  slender  tubes  of 
a brilliant  scarlet  Aeschynanthus. 

Soon  we  came  to  another  suspension  bridge,  with 
an  easy  ford  just  below — indeed  the  river  here  seemed 
fordable  in  most  places  even  now,  and  later  in  the 
year  it  would  offer  no  obstacle  at  all.  The  bed  is 
considerably  broader  than  where  the  river  enters  the 
limestone  gorge  above  Black  Rock,  though  the  moun- 
tains rise  more  steeply  from  the  water’s  edge.  The 
left  bank  especially,  though  clothed  with  dense  forests, 
is  very  precipitous,  the  trees  often  clinging  to  bare 
rock;  and  as  I looked  at  those  mountains,  springing 
tier  on  tier  above  the  brawling  river,  I thought 
what  a magnificent  virgin  field  was  here  for  the 
naturalist. 

Fish  traps  are  met  with  from  time  to  time,  both 
in  torrents  where  they  join  the  main  river,  and  in  the 
Ngawchang  itself. 

A bamboo  fence  is  built  out  from  the  shore  and  a 
long,  hollow  tree  trunk  buried  in  the  shingle  beneath 
it,  both  ends  being  left  open,  and  a conical  net  attached 
to  the  lower  end.  The  water  banks  up  against  the 
fence,  and  any  fish  swept  through  the  tube  are  caught 
in  the  net. 

Unable  to  reach  a village  before  dark,  we  camped 


THE  CROSSBOW  119 

for  the  night  in  a thicket,  with  tall,  saw-edged  grass, 
alders,  ragged  bushes  and  brambles  all  round  us;  a 
worse  place  for  mosquitoes  and  sand-flies  we  could  not 
have  selected. 

A shower  passed  over  at  nightfall,  and  was  followed 
by  a starry  sky  which  lasted  an  hour.  But  had  there 
been  no  drizzling  rain  to  add,  in  the  absence  of 
tents  or  natural  shelter,  to  our  discomfort,  there 
would  have  been  little  sleep  for  anyone  that  night, 
and  I was  thankful  for  daylight.  The  minimum 
temperature  was  62*9°  F. 

Starting  early,  we  soon  reached  a Yawyin  village  on 
a broad  platform  which  sloped  down  to  the  river, 
the  right  bank  being  more  open  here,  the  mountains 
farther  back.  But  the  left  bank  was  an  uncom- 
promising wall  of  forest,  showing  the  Salween  divide, 
separating  Chinese  from  British  territory,  to  be  a 
most  formidable  barrier. 

After  leaving  this  village  we  had  five  hours’  hard 
work,  climbing  many  hundreds  of  feet  to  the  summit 
of  one  spur,  only  to  drop  down  on  to  a deep-flowing 
torrent  on  the  other  side  and  start  climbing  up  again. 

These  torrents  are  tumultuous  blasts  of  water  leap- 
ing thunderously  amongst  big  boulders  in  the  cool 
gloom  of  the  everlasting  forest;  there  is  a clammy 
feeling  in  the  air,  as  of  a toad’s  skin ; no  sunlight 
gets  through  the  dense  roof  to  kiss  the  shivering 
balsams  that  crowd  at  the  water’s  edge,  wetted  in 
the  flying  spray,  or  the  scarlet  trumpets  of  Aeschy- 
nanthus  that  loll  from  the  moss-coated  tree  trunks. 

The  bellow  of  the  torrent  fills  the  air,  and  every 
inch  of  ground  is  covered  with  dumbly  struggling, 
sappy  and  enervated  plants,  which  surge  to  the  very 


120  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

roots  of  the  trees  and  overflow  the  confused  boulders ; 
tall  creepers  hanging  from  aloft  veil  the  light  yet 
further,  and  one  is  glad  to  climb  out  of  this  dim 
oppression  on  to  the  sunny  hill-side,  with  its  rank, 
plebeian  growths  and  cruel,  saw-edged  grass,  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

We  passed  a few  men  on  this  march,  two  Chinese 
pedlars,  their  goods  carried  in  baskets  on  the  backs 
of  coolies,  and  several  men  stumbling  slowly  along 
with  coffin  planks,  though,  as  stated,  they  are  usually 
floated  down  to  Kang-fang.  From  time  to  time  a 
shower  happened  along,  but  it  was  not  seriously 
wet. 

After  a tiring  day  throughout  which  the  trail  had 
grown  persistently  worse  and  the  climbing  more 
arduous,  we  reached  at  dusk  two  tiny  hovels  perched 
up  amongst  the  green  maize  on  a steep  taungya , as 
remote  a place  as  one  could  come  across,  and  slept 
snugly. 

The  next  day’s  march  was  very  similar,  but  a change 
was  stealing  over  the  valley,  the  path  keeping  well 
above  and  some  distance  back  from  the  river,  which 
was  now  little  more  than  a big  torrent  flowing  in 
an  inaccessible  forested  gorge. 

From  the  scorching,  shadeless  hill-side  we  would 
plunge  terrifically  down  into  the  benighted  forest, 
by  an  execrable  path  slippery  with  mud,  cross  some 
ravenous  torrent  by  a single  tree  trunk,  and  climb 
laboriously  up  out  of  the  gulf  into  the  hot  sunlight 
again ; and  watching  these  white  cataracts  roaring 
out  from  amongst  the  trees  and  rocks  higher  up  the 
glen,  I always  longed  to  start  off  up-stream,  tracing 
them  back  to  their  puny  sources  in  the  cloud-veiled 


I 2 I 


THE  CROSSBOW 

mountains  of  the  Imaw  Bum  range,  where  no  white 
man  had  ever  trod.  But  there  was  no  time  for  any 
such  side  ventures. 

At  midday  we  reached  a Yawyin  village  of  six  huts 
and  in  the  evening  a second  one  as  large. 

These  huts  are  quite  small,  with  -walls  of  bamboo 
matting  and  plank  floors,  roofed  with  split  bamboos 
in  several  layers  placed  alternately  with  convex  and 
concave  faces  uppermost,  thus  forming  a system  of 
corrugated  tiles.  Being  built  on  the  spurs  which 
slope  steeply  down  to  the  river,  they  are  always 
raised  on  piles,  with  rickety  verandahs  on  two  sides, 
along  which  one  has  to  stoop  to  avoid  the  projecting 
eaves.  The  door  is  reached  after  performing  com- 
plicated balancing  feats  on  a notched  log,  which  does 
duty  for  a ladder,  and  the  interior  is  completely 
divided  into  three  or  four  rooms. 

They  are  nothing  like  as  big  as  the  Lashi,  Maru 
and  Kachin  huts,  and  differ  further  in  the  absence 
of  the  big  front  porch,  and  in  the  rooms  being 
completely  divided  off,  without  any  central  passage. 

As  for  the  people,  w-e  found  them  charming,  and 
it  is  good  to  think  that  these  hardy  mountaineers  are 
crowding  over  the  frontier  into  the  dour  valleys  of 
the  Burmese  hinterland.  Though  they  are  much 
nicer  looking  than  most  of  the  tribes  up  here — the 
lantern-jawed  men  look  as  proud  and  fierce  as  Red 
Indians — they  grow  cadaverous  as  they  age,  when 
the  Mongolian  relationship  comes  out  much  more 
clearly.  They  are  often  long-headed,  with  quite  a 
fine  profile,  and  the  girls  have  merry,  round 
faces,  pink  cheeks  and  large,  frank  eyes;  they  show 
off  their  figures  to  advantage  by  wrapping  a long 


i22  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

sash  round  the  waist — a Li-kiang  habit.  Indeed 
many  of  them  claim  to  have  come  from  Li-kiang, 
which  suggests  a relationship  to  the  Mosos,  and 
through  them  to  the  Tibetans. 

Most  of  them  can  speak  a certain  amount  ot 
Chinese,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  are 
pressing  slowly  up  the  Ngawchang  valley  from  the 
south,  as  well  as  crossing  direct  from  the  Salween 
valley.  Where  the  Lashi  is  already  in  occupation, 
they  ascend  the  mountains  and  plant  their  villages 
above  his,  but  here  they  have  extended  far  beyond 
the  limits  of  the  Lashi,  and  are  doggedly  opening 
up  virgin  ground.  Nothing  could  promise  more 
brightly  for  this  bitter  country,  and  it  may  be  that 
in  time  the  vigorous  Yawyins  will  overrun  the  indolent 
Lashis,  and  replace  them  in  the  lower  valleys. 

The  dress  of  the  Yawyin  girls  is  extremely 
picturesque — a harlequin  skirt  of  many  colours,  or 
more  exactly  three,  buff,  ochre-red  and  chocolate, 
arranged  in  broad  stripes,  with  a short  jacket;  a 
sash  tied  round  the  waist,  and  an  ordinary  Chinese 
turban  worn  in  place  of  the  scarf  affected  by  the 
more  prosperous  Yawyins  of  the  T£eng-yueh  district. 
Cloth  gaiters,  similar  to  those  of  the  Lashis,  are 
generally  worn  by  the  men,  who  otherwise  have 
adopted  Chinese  dress,  and  all  go  about  barefooted. 

Their  food  consists  chiefly  of  a sort  of  porridge, 
made  from  buckwheat,  with  coarse  cakes  of  the 
same  unpalatable  grain,  and  vegetable  soup,  with 
fowls  and  eggs  occasionally — little  more  than  the  bare 
necessaries  of  life.  But  they  are  always  hospitable 
and  even  generous. 

Their  weapon  is  the  crossbow,  with  fire-hardened 


THE  CROSSBOW  123 

bamboo  arrows,  poisoned  with  aconite;  and  the  dah, 
a short,  straight-bladed  knife  of  soft  iron. 

We  spent  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  23rd  August, 
grinding  corn  for  the  journey  over  the  Wulaw  Pass, 
as  this  was  the  last  village  at  which  adequate  supplies 
could  be  obtained.  There  was  only  one  hand-mill, 
so  it  took  a long  time  to  fill  all  the  skin  bags  with 
flour.  I took  a turn  at  swinging  the  heavy  stone 
round  and  round,  feeding  the  maize  corn  into  a 
little  hole  in  the  upper  stone,  and  collecting  the 
flour  which  was  squeezed  out  between  the  two;  but 
my  shoulder,  unused  to  the  work,  soon  tired. 

In  the  evening  we  had  some  sports,  jumping,  putting 
the  weight — a large  boulder — and  a comic  turn  by  my 
Maru  interpreter,  a most  amusing  fellow,  who  in  his 
grotesque,  but  often  successful,  efforts  to  pick  up 
sticks  while  tangled  into  knots  kept  the  rest  of  us 
in  fits  of  laughter. 

That  night,  or  rather  in  the  very  early  morning,  the 
temperature  sank  as  low  as  60*3°  F.,  and  we  awoke  in 
the  clouds,  -which  were  falling  about  us  in  rain  after 
breakfast ; and  so  it  continued  all  day,  with  the  briefest 
intervals. 

We  marched  four  hours  in  the  morning,  and  four 
more  in  the  afternoon,  climbing  over  the  spurs,  now 
grown  mountain-high,  across  occasional  taungya,  tra- 
versing steep,  forested  slopes  where  there  was  scarce 
foothold  for  a goat;  so  that  for  all  our  marching  wre 
made  scarcely  five  miles’  progress  up  the  valley. 

At  midday  we  struck  almost  the  last  Yawyin  village, 
comprising  three  huts — the  site  was  but  two  seasons 
old,  these  people  having  come  from  Yun-nan  the  year 
before. 


124  IN  THE  LAND  OF 

There  were  two  remarkably  pretty  girls  here,  with 
whom  my  men  promptly  started  an  outrageous  flirtation. 

When  these  tribespeople  fraternise,  they  break  the 
ice  by  offering  each  other  pan  and  lime  from  the  little 
bamboo  boxes  they  carry,  as  an  Englishman  would  offer 
a cigarette;  and  I watched  one  of  my  Lashis,  who 
could  not  speak  a word  of  Yawyin,  dumbly  offer  his  to 
a pretty  girl,  blinking  self-consciously  under  a glow  of 
smiles  from  his  companions. 

The  huts  here  had  a floor  of  bamboo  matting  instead 
of  boards,  and  the  roof  too  was  made  of  a single  piece 
of  matting  bent  over  in  the  form  of  an  arch.  At  dusk, 
in  pouring  rain,  we  reached  Wulaw,  a village  of  eight 
huts. 

We  saw  many  magnolia  trees  in  the  forest  this  day, 
which  showed  that  we  were  steadily  ascending. 

Rain  was  falling  from  a perfect  blanket  of  mist  when 
we  awoke  on  25th  August,  and  a minimum  temperature 
of  6i°  F.  scarcely  gives  an  indication  of  the  chill  damp- 
ness. 

We  soon  reached  the  last  outpost  of  the  advancing 
Yawyins  in  the  Ngawchang  valley,  two  huts  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  forest,  in  a newly  felled  clearing  not 
yet  burnt.  There  was  a T‘eng-yueh  pedlar  here,  sell- 
ing Chinese  jackets  and  loose  trousers  of  dark  blue 
cotton  cloth  such  as  the  Panthay  muleteers  wear  in 
Yun-nan,  and  purchasing  coffin  planks,  half-a-dozen  ol 
which  were  leaning  against  a tree. 

From  this  point  we  plunged  into  the  forested  wilder- 
ness, and  after  a stiff  climb  camped  about  five  o’clock 
at  an  altitude  of  over  8000  feet.  Those  who  reached 
the  water-hole  first  had  the  pleasure  of  building  the 
huts,  while  the  sluggards  came  in  to  find  camp  prepared. 


THE  CROSSBOW  125 

There  were  plenty  of  bamboos  in  the  forest,  and 
scarcely  any  undergrowth,  so  we  had  no  difficulty  in 
rigging  up  shelters,  which  were  built  entirely  of 
bamboo,  roofed  either  with  branches  or  with  split 
bamboo  tiles,  like  the  huts  we  had  seen ; and  in  spite 
of  the  rain  we  made  ourselves  snug.  My  own  shelter 
was  made  with  a central  ridge  pole,  across  which 
bamboos,  half  cut  through,  were  bent,  being  tied  to 
the  cross  pieces  by  thin  strips  of  bamboo ; and  over 
this  framework  I spread  my  valise. 

There  was  a very  big  conifer  (Pseudotouga  sp.) 
growing  here,  and  many  gnarled  oaks,  amongst  the 
intricate  mossy  roots  of  which  hundreds  of  voles  1 had 
their  burrows.  So  open  is  this  park  forest  that  except 
when  following  some  well-defined  feature,  such  as 
a ridge,  it  is  impossible  to  find  the  way,  and  one  might 
vainly  wander  for  hours  through  the  silent  glades, 
looking  for  a trail  to  follow. 

1 Vandeluria  dumeticola,  Hodgson. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS 


ALL  night  it  rained,  and  there  was  a marked 
drop  in  temperature,  the  minimum  registering 
50-4°  F. 

It  was  useless  waiting  for  the  rain  to  stop,  so  we 
started  off  at  nine,  ascending  steeply  by  a ridge.  So 
slippery  was  it,  however,  that  after  four  hours’  heart- 
breaking work,  during  which  little  progress  was  made, 
the  men  refused  to  go  on,  and  we  halted  in  the  forest, 
drenched  to  the  skin  and  shivering  with  cold.  The 
altitude  was  about  10,000  feet,  judging  by  the  fir- 
trees  and  rhododendrons  which  surrounded  us. 

Making  the  best  of  a bad  business,  we  built  our 
leaky  little  shelters  and  got  the  fires  going;  we  even 
pretended  to  be  cheerful — I believe  the  Yawyins  really 
were ! Anyhow,  as  I lay  curling  up  on  my  bed,  almost 
afraid  to  move  lest  I should  upset  the  shelter,  with 
streams  of  water  dripping  in,  I heard  them  singing 
away  by  their  fire  as  though  they  had  not  a trouble  in 
the  world. 

It  was  a wretched  night  of  pouring  rain,  minimum 
temperature  49*5°  F.,  nor  did  it  show  any  indication  of 
stopping  in  the  morning.  All  the  fires  were  out,  and 
it  took  so  long  to  start  them  again,  pack  up  our  sodden 
things  with  numbed  hands,  or  move  at  all  in  the 
confined  space  of  our  huts  that  it  was  nearly  midday 
before  we  got  off. 


126 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  127 

Once  outside,  thoroughly  soaked  again,  it  was  not 
so  bad,  for  movement  was  much  to  be  preferred  to  the 
previous  inactivity. 

First  came  a steep  climb  up  through  fir  and  rhodo- 
dendron forest,  where  there  was  more  undergrowth 
than  usual,  to  the  summit  of  the  ridge. 

Here  we  were  exposed  to  a raw  wind  from  the 
south-west.  There  was  nothing  to  protect  us,  and, 
shivering  with  cold,  we  made  our  way  for  half-a-mile 
or  more,  up  and  down  along  the  open  ridge  through 
scrub  rhododendron1  and  bamboo  grass  three  feet  high. 
The  highest  point  of  the  ridge,  between  11,000  and 
12,000  feet,  was  soon  reached,  but  ahead,  dimly  seen 
through  the  mist,  rose  a still  higher  peak. 

Eastwards  we  looked  over  a sea  of  gloomy  mountains, 
and  my  guide  pointed  out  a path  which  he  said  went 
to  the  Shapa  Lisu  country,  probably  across  the  high 
range  of  mountains  which  divides  this  region  from  the 
Salween  valley,  since  he  said  that  it  was  eight  days’ 
march  to  the  first  village ! 

At  last  we  left  the  open  ridge  and  began  to  descend 
a spur  on  the  right,  soon  reaching  the  comparative 
shelter  of  trees  and  bamboos  again. 

So  far  the  ridge  had  proved  rather  disappointing  in 
flowers,  though  I had  found  a solitary  and  bedraggled 
primula  amongst  the  scrub,  and  presently  I came  on 
a fine  crimson-flowered  lily  (L.  Tbompsonianutn'). 

But  now  quite  suddenly  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
bewitching  garden,  the  path  bordered  with  spotted 
pink  Nomocharis  growing  in  the  grass  under  shelter  of 
the  bamboos,  with  patches  of  saxifrage  hard  by,  and 
grass-of-Parnassus. 

1 R.  oporinum , sp.  nov.  flowers. 


128  OYER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

Then,  leaving  this  ridge,  we  plunged  down  the  slope 
on  our  left,  through  fir  forest,  and  emerged  on  to  a 
grassy  meadow  lining  a stream  which  splashed  and 
gurgled  amidst  a perfectly  dazzling  display  of  flowers. 
Enclosing  this  enchanted  spot,  the  forested  slopes  rose 
on  every  hand ; but  the  stream  meandered  through 
them,  accompanied  by  its  strip  of  meadow,  which 
floored  the  tiny  valley  with  flowers. 

There  were  purple-flowered  Allium,  and  tall  cabbage- 
leafed  Senecio,  sheets  of  white  grass-of-Parnassus,  stiff 
louseworts,  delicate  Cremanthodium,  and  a mammoth 
Rheum,  standing  up  erect  as  a grenadier,  six  feet  high. 
But  most  welcome  of  all,  I caught  sight  of  the  twisted 
conical  capsules,  full  of  flat  seeds,  of  one  of  that 
curious  race  of  primulas  (perhaps  P.  Delavayi ) which 
now  many  botanists  consider  are  not  really  primulas 
at  all,  but  which  are  provisionally  grouped  together  in 
a section  called  Omphalogramma.  This  was  a treasure 
indeed,  and  I collected  all  the  seed  I could  find,  for  my 
discovery  extended  the  distribution  of  these  pseudo- 
primulas, and  might  prove  a link  between  the  Himalayan 
and  Chinese  representatives. 

Tramping  down  this  stream,  which  swelled  rapidly 
as  other  streams  came  gushing  in  right  and  left  from 
the  closely  surrounding  wooded  hills,  we  presently 
came  to  thickets  of  shrubs  and  a wild  tangle  of 
climbing  monkshood,  bell-flower  and  starry  stitch  wort, 
with  giant  meadow-rue,  larkspur,  Umbelliferas  and 
many  other  things. 

The  country  here  was  most  remarkable ; I have  never 
seen  anything  like  it  elsewhere.  The  Feng-shui-ling 
was  the  nearest  approach  to  it,  but  quite  in  miniature, 
and  the  mountains  there  were  fully  2000  feet  lower. 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  129 

Our  altitude  must  have  been  somewhere  between 
10,000  and  1 1,000  feet,  and  we  were  surrounded  on  all 
sides  by  a tangle  of  low,  rounded  hills,  amongst  which 
rushed  hither  and  thither  a network  of  frothing  brooks. 

The  hills  loomed  up  shadow-like  and  indistinct  in 
the  whirling  mist,  which  clung  like  smoke  to  the  tree- 
tops  ; wooded  to  their  summits  with  rhododendrons, 
bamboos  and  fir,  they  peeped  at  us  over  each  other’s 
shoulders  from  every  direction,  while  the  streams 
which  bubbled  at  their  feet  were  lined  with  meadow, 
and  the  flowers  grew  like  the  magic  beanstalk.  Masses 
of  violet-flowered  Strobilanthes 1 flourished  here.  Some- 
times the  passage  between  two  hills  was  so  narrow 
that  we  had  to  paddle  along  in  the  stream,  while  giant 
meadow-rues  and  long,  clinging  monkshoods  showered 
their  burden  of  raindrops  playfully  on  us  as  we 
brushed  through ; sometimes  we  would  emerge  into 
a little  grassy  dell  tucked  away  in  a fold  of  the  hills, 
with  streams  splashing  down  all  around  us. 

So  we  went  up  one  stream,  over  a low  col,  and  down 
another,  then  across  a stream  to  another  valley,  on  and 
on,  till  my  sense  of  direction  was  utterly  mazed,  and 
still  the  wooded  hills,  blurred  in  mist  and  rain,  rose 
all  about  us,  and  the  song  of  the  rising  torrents  grew 
shriller. 

Then  quite  suddenly  the  meadow  widened  out,  and 
where  the  tall  flowers  swayed  graciously  all  round  us 
I came  on  what  I sought.  They  were  standing  in  a 
row  as  stiff"  as  though  on  parade,  just  above  the  edge 
of  the  meadow  bordering  the  woodland,  a line  of 
glorious  poppyworts.  So  the  missing  link  was  found, 
and  the  flora  of  the  Imaw  Bum  range  definitely 
1 Amongst  them  S.  oresbius,  sp.  nov. 


1 3o  OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

connected  through  that  of  the  Mekong-Salween  divide 
with  that  of  the  Himalaya. 

This  Meconopsis  (M.  Wallichii ) grew  seven  feet 
high,  and  had  pale  purple  flowers  one  and  a half  inches 
across,  massed  with  a tassel  of  golden  anthers  in  the 
centre.  The  flowers  are  small  in  comparison  with 
many  of  its  kind,  but  they  are  borne  in  remarkable 
numbers;  one  plant  I examined,  which  had  a seven- 
foot  stem,  bore  16  buds,  27  flowers  and  103  fruits — 
nearly  150  flowers  in  all,  though  not  blooming  simul- 
taneously. It  may  be  wondered  how  so  many  flowers 
of  this  size  are  crowded  on  a seven-foot  stem,  but  it  is 
quite  simple.  They  are  borne  in  short  racemes  six  to 
nine  inches  long,  of  about  seven  flowers,  each  raceme, 
springing  from  the  axil  of  a strap-shaped,  drooping  leaf, 
closely  pressed  against  the  main  stem,  which  itself  ends 
in  a flower,  giving  a wonderful  concentration  of  colour. 
The  whole  thus  forms  an  immense  panicle,  the  tall 
stem  studded  from  top  to  bottom  first  with  fat  ovoid 
buds,  then  with  flowers,  and  below  with  capsules.  I 
collected  seed  of  this  species  (familiar  from  the  Hima- 
laya), but  it  was  not  quite  ripe  and  did  not  survive  the 
journey  to  England. 

But  it  was  now  growing  dusk,  and  we  were  all 
weary,  our  hands  and  feet  swollen  with  the  continuous 
soaking;  also  we  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  eight 
o’clock  breakfast,  as  the  weather  had  been  too  bad  to 
aliow  of  halting  for  a meal,  and  we  had  been  marching 
with  scarcely  a break  for  nearly  six  hours. 

Consequently  it  was  with  some  relief  that  I heard, 
while  collecting  my  meconopsis,  the  glad  ring  of  dah 
against  wood  not  far  ahead ; and  following  up  the 
sound,  discovered  my  men  on  the  summit  of  a small 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  13 1 

knoll  from  which  they  were  clearing  the  bamboos. 
Through  the  red-barked  trees  I saw  the  fires  already 
gleaming. 

It  was  dark  before  the  shelters  were  finished  and 
we  snuggled  into  our  wet  nests ; late  before  I got  any 
dinner;  but  these  things  did  not  matter.  What  did 
matter  was  the  fact  that  no  sooner  were  we  established 
on  our  hill-top  than  we  were  surrounded  by  myriads 
of  tiny  sand-flies  which  bit  like  fury.  There  was  a 
perfect  fog  of  them,  and  they  caused  us  dreadful 
anguish,  even  the  hardy  natives  hopping  about ; as  for 
me,  my  face,  neck  and  wrists  were  covered  with  bumps 
in  a very  short  time,  and  1 was  itching  all  over.  I lit 
two  candles  of  my  slender  stock,  and  thousands  rushed 
to  their  death  in  the  flames ; but  their  numbers  were 
nowise  diminished. 

Thus  with  pouring  rain  the  wicked  night  passed,  and 
dawn  came,  lowering. 

It  uras  still  pouring  when  we  got  up  next  morning, 
28th  August,  after  a minimum  of  S°'3°  F.,  but  ceased 
just  as  we  turned  our  backs  on  Wulaw.  In  winter 
these  mountains  are  covered  under  deep  snow  and  it 
must  be  bitterly  cold  here  for  months.  I have  never 
seen  even  in  Yun-nan  a more  wonderful  place  for 
flowers  than  Wulaw,  nor  one  more  difficult  of  access, 
nor  more  hedged  round  with  tortures  for  those  who 
would  brave  its  terrors.  It  will  defy  the  collector,  and 
guard  its  treasures  long,  for  I hardly  think  a white 
man  could  spend  a season  there  and  live. 

Our  route  took  us  down  the  rocky  bed  of  a narrow 
stream,  the  almost  precipitous  banks  of  which  were 
smothered  with  flowering  shrubs  and  small  trees  of 
cherry,  birch,  maple  and  rowan,  with  bamboos  and 


1 32  OYER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

rhododendron  higher  up.  As  for  the  giant  herbs 
springing  from  either  bank,  they  met  and  embraced 
overhead,  bridging  the  narrow  defile,  so  that  we  passed 
beneath  arches  of  purple  meadow-rue  or  brushed 
through  tangles  of  yellow  Corydalis  and  white  plumes 
of  Astilbe,  which  is  like  meadowsweet.  By  the 
water’s  edge  were  beds  of  orange-spotted  monkey- 
flower,  and  balsam  with  pendent  crimson  bugles,  saxi- 
frages, primulas  and  lilies,  mixed  up  with  bushes  of 
hydrangea,  currant  and  hairy-leafed  raspberry.  It 
was  bewildering,  this  rampant  growth  of  struggling, 
long-limbed  flowers  in  the  dim-walled  bed  of  the 
bubbling  beck. 

Presently  a small  black  creature  darted  through  the 
foaming  water  in  front  of  me,  and  grabbing  hastily, 
I caught  it  in  my  hand.  It  had  shiny  black  fur  like 
a mole’s,  which  refused  to  be  wetted,  and  the  little 
creature  proved  to  be  none  other  than  one  of  those 
rare  insectivorous  animals  known  as  a water  shrew.1 

But  now  other  rills  came  tumbling  in,  laughing  with 
joy,  and  the  beck  grew  and  grew,  though  the  gorge 
did  not  broaden,  only  the  walls  rose  higher,  frowning 
down  on  us,  with  a riband  of  sky  visible  overhead. 
Swifter  and  swifter  flowed  the  stream  down  its  smooth, 
rocky  bed,  till  at  last  it  leapt  over  a fall  too  high  for 
us  to  negotiate,  and  we  started  traversing  along  the 
steep  clay  bank  to  a track  above,  which  soon  left  the 
restless  stream  far  below. 

Now  matters  became  more  difficult,  for  we  had  to 
cross  numerous  torrents  which  had  cut  deeply  into  the 
soft  hill-side ; and  the  rain  having  turned  the  surface 

1 Cbimarrogale  slyani,  the  second  known  example.  The  first  was 
taken  in  Kansu,  North-West  China. 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  133 

to  clay,  we  slithered  down  the  high  banks,  and  ex- 
perienced the  greatest  difficulty  in  climbing  up  the 
other  side. 

At  first  we  were  in  mixed  forest,  but  as  we 
descended  the  conifers  disappeared,  and  their  place 
was  taken  by  grand  deciduous-leafed  trees ; here  and 
there  were  open  glades,  as  in  a park,  filled  not  indeed 
with  bracken,  but  with  masses  of  violet  Strobilanthes 
and  white-flowered  Polygonum,  growing  man -high 
round  the  enormous  tree  trunks. 

Then  came  gloomy,  impenetrable  forests  of  bamboo 
whose  thick,  leafy  growth  overhead  cut  out  all 
daylight. 

During  a brief  halt  for  lunch  we  were  attacked  by 
bees  which  appeared  in  such  numbers  that  they 
eventually  routed  us.  Continuing  to  descend,  we  at 
last  slid  down  a steep  clay  slide  and  reaching  the 
confluence  of  two  fairly  big  streams,  started  to  paddle 
again. 

Presently  crossing  to  the  far  bank,  we  began  to 
climb  once  more,  up,  up,  up,  till  we  seemed  to  have 
ascended  as  much  as  we  had  previously  descended. 
No  words  can  convey  how  exhausting  this  work 
was. 

It  was  unutterably  dismal  in  these  bamboo  forests 
— no  song  of  birds,  no  ray  of  sunlight,  no  wayside 
flowers,  nothing  but  the  patter  of  rain  on  the  leaves 
above,  and  the  eternal  drip,  drip  of  water. 

At  last,  about  five  o’clock,  the  vanguard  of  our  now 
straggling  party,  comprising  three  Yawyins  and  myself 
(they  were  always  to  the  fore,  splendid  fellows !), 
stood  on  a low  pass,  looking  over  into  what  seemed 
in  the  mist  and  rain,  to  be  a big  valley. 


■ 34  OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

Down  we  plunged  through  the  cold  stream,  splashing 
along,  covered  with  leeches,  and  so  thoroughly  soaked 
and  saturated  that  the  water  seemed  to  penetrate 
our  very  skins,  till  at  six  o’clock,  by  which  time  we 
had  come  some  distance  and  the  baby  stream  had 
swollen  to  fair  size,  we  came  suddenly  on  a big  shelter 
already  set  up,  and  halted  thankfully.  There  was 
just  a thatch  roof,  sloping  up  from  the  ground,  large 
enough  for  us  all ; and  we  were  glad  to  have  it. 

An  hour  later  another  batch  of  men,  mostly  Yaw- 
yins,  arrived,  and  even  after  dark  one  or  two  more 
straggled  in;  but  several  of  the  Lashis,  including  the 
one  who  carried  my  food,  did  not  come  in  at  all  that 
night. 

However,  we  lit  a fire  and  spread  out  our  bedding 
under  the  lean-to,  and  in  spite  of  a coldish  wind 
slept  well  after  our  strenuous  march ; for,  heaven  be 
praised,  there  were  few  sand-flies,  and  the  bees  we 
could  cope  with. 

Sitting  round  a big  fire  in  comfort,  listening  to  the 
wet  bamboos  sizzling  and  exploding  on  the  fire  with 
loud  pops,  was  pleasant  enough ; next  day,  the  men 
said,  we  should  reach  the  first  Maru  village. 

T‘ung-ch‘ien  was  in  good  spirits  and  astonished  the 
Yawyins  by  telling  them  of  the  marvels  of  Mandalay 
and  Rangoon,  whither  he  had  accompanied  me,  and 
of  the  railway  train  and  steamer,  and  how  many  days’ 
march  they  go  in  a day.  Or  he  would  talk  to  them 
of  Tibet,  and  sing  Moso  songs,  which  were  always 
greeted  with  loud  laughter. 

Though  it  rained  all  night  we  kept  fairly  dry,  and 
by  eight  o’clock  it  had  ceased.  An  hour  later  the 
three  remaining  porters  arrived,  having  spent  an  un- 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  135 

comfortable  night  in  the  forest  higher  up.  So  we 
started  again. 

And  now  for  the  first  time  we  got  something  of  a 
view,  towering  limestone  cliffs  looming  up  ahead  ; but 
whether  they  were  across  the  valley  we  were  looking 
into,  or  bounded  our  own  valley,  it  was  impossible  to 
say,  and  seething  mists  soon  hid  them  again. 

We  passed  several  bamboo  rat  traps  set  up  on  the 
bank  of  the  stream,  for  the  Marus  catch  and  eat 
vermin ; also  little  fenced-off  places  where  grew  the 
plant  called  by  the  Chinese  buang-lien  (Coptis  teeta ), 
a Ranunculaceous  plant,  the  root  of  which  is  used 
medicinally.  The  Marus  come  up  into  these  forests 
for  jungle  produce  of  this  sort,  also  to  hunt  the  takin, 
serow,  bear  and  other  animals. 

Here  and  there  gigantic  trunks  of  the  coffin-plank 
tree  lay  across  our  path,  and  as  we  emerged  at  last 
from  the  twilight  of  the  forest  we  saw  across  the 
stream,  high  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  valley,  a 
number  of  these  big  trees ; they  stood  out  very  plainly 
from  amongst  the  deciduous-leafed  trees  which  sur- 
rounded them,  conspicuous  by  their  shape,  their  colour 
and  above  all  by  their  size. 

Sliding  and  tripping  we  came  down  a tremendously 
steep  hill-side  in  the  open,  and  saw  the  village  of 
Che-wen  below  on  the  left  bank  of  a considerable 
stream  which  flowed  in  a deep  valley. 

An  hour  later  we  were  splashing  through  the  sties 
and  mud-holes  of  a Maru  village,  its  dozen  huts  stand- 
ing amongst  little  fenced-off  gardens,  where  grew 
beans,  tobacco,  opium  poppies  and  a few  peach-trees. 

Pigs  grunted  and  scuttled,  an  odd  cow  or  two  stood 
uncompromisingly  in  the  fairway,  and  women  seated 


1 36  OYER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

in  the  porches  looked  up  from  their  weaving  and  stared 
at  us.  However,  we  were  well  received,  and  soon 
shown  into  a house,  whereupon  the  inhabitants  crowded 
round  the  doorway  to  gaze  at  me. 

At  last  I was  able  to  take  off  my  wet  clothes,  and 
having  started  a big  fire  in  the  room  placed  at  my  dis- 
posal, we  set  to  work  drying  everything. 

These  huts,  made  of  bamboo  matting,  raised  on 
stilts  with  hard  floors  of  wooden  boards  laid  across  beams, 
narrow  verandahs  and  front  porch,  are  small,  like  the 
Yawyin  huts,  not  at  all  like  the  typical  Maru  huts  of 
the  ’Nmai  valley.  Outside  the  houses  are  small  box- 
like granaries  raised  high  on  four  stout  pillars  capped 
with  circular  discs  of  wood,  which  serve  to  defeat  the 
rats. 

Fields  of  maize  and  buckwheat  slope  down  to  the  river. 
Beyond,  the  shadowy  outlines  of  high  mountains  dis- 
appear into  the  rain  mists.  Up  the  valley  and  across 
the  Salween  divide,  distant  eight  marches,  lies  the 
country  of  the  Shapa  Lisus,  an  evil  tribe,  according  to 
Maru  tradition  ; but  this  is  not  altogether  surprising, 
since  they  wage  a continuous  defensive  warfare  against 
the  Chinese,  whose  ruthless  efforts  to  exterminate 
them  are  calculated  to  sharpen  all  their  latent  cunning 
and  cruelty. 

These  Shapa  Lisus  come  across  the  mountains  selling 
cattle,  salt,  cotton  clothes  and  iron  cooking  pots,  all 
obtained  from  Yun-nan,  buying  huang-lien  in  exchange; 
thus  they  act  as  middlemen  between  the  Chinese  and 
Marus  for  trade  purposes.  Chinese  traders  themselves 
sometimes  penetrate  into  these  inhospitable  mountains. 

It  may  be  remarked  here  that  the  Lisus 1 do  not 

1 Lisu  is  the  tribal  name,  and  includes  the  clan  known  as  Yawyin. 


OYER  THE  WULAW  PASS  137 

believe  in  nats , the  elfish  and  capricious  spirits  of 
mountain,  river  and  forest  which  watch  over  the  lives 
of  the  great  Kachin  family  inhabiting  the  Burmese 
hinterland ; and  their  practice  of  putting  the  things 
used  in  this  life — crossbow,  pipe,  wine  jar  and  hat — on 
the  grave,  for  the  use  of  the  spirit,  is  distinctly  Chinese. 
These  considerations  point  to  an  eastern  rather  than 
a northern  original  home  for  the  Lisus. 

As  to  the  Marus,  I was  not  altogether  favourably 
impressed  with  their  dirty  appearance ; but  first 
impressions  are  notoriously  deceptive,  and  later  they 
displayed  redeeming  qualities  which  endeared  them  to 
me  far  more  than  their  cousins,  the  Lashis. 

Amongst  their  more  distinctive  peculiarites  is  the 
mop  of  unkempt  hair,  rarely  tied  in  a brief  pig-tail,  like 
a Jack  Tar  of  Nelson’s  day,  or  in  a knot  on  top  of  the 
head.  The  men  usually  wear  a brown  or  blue  striped 
kilt,  like  a Burmese  lone-gyi , dyed  locally  with  jungle 
dyes ; but  occasionally  Chinese  fashions  are  followed. 

It  does  not  appear,  however,  that  the  Chinese  have 
ever  gained  much  of  a footing  over  here.  Barring  an 
occasional  cotton  garment — for  the  Marus  cannot  sew 
— or  a red-buttoned  skull-cap,  the  only  thing  Chinese 
I saw  was  a set  of  scales,  as  used  for  weighing  silver  in 
China.  They  were  being  used  by  one  of  my  Lashis, 
who  was  exchanging  glass  beads  for  cane  rings,  made 
of  thin  strips  of  rattan,  such  as  all  the  men,  and 
women  too,  wear  round  the  leg ; and  a bargain  was 
struck  by  weight. 

As  for  unmarried  girls,  they  cut  their  hair  in  a fringe 
all  round.  Their  tight  skirts  of  white  hemp  cloth, 
home  woven,  reach  just  below  the  knee,  and  they  wear 
a low-necked  blue  cotton  jacket  with  short  sleeves. 


I3B  over  the  wulaw  pass 

embroidered  with  cowry  shells,  or  buttons,  according  to 
the  state  of  the  market.  Other  finery — bead  necklaces, 
iron  hoops  with  bells,  and  earrings,  or  tubes,  resemble 
those  of  the  Lashis. 

It  continued  to  rain,  for  we  were  still  well  in  the 
mountains,  but  the  much  lower  altitude  we  had  attained 
was  reflected  in  the  warmer  night — minimum  tempera- 
ture 64-8°  F.,  nearly  150  higher  than  on  Wulaw. 

As  the  rain  showed  no  signs  of  stopping,  I felt 
inclined  to  rest  on  30th  August ; but  a break  occurring 
in  the  afternoon,  I changed  my  mind,  and  we  started 
about  two. 

Eight  of  the  Yawyins  brought  from  the  Ngawchang 
went  back  from  here,  their  place  being  taken  by  Marus. 

Near  the  village  the  path  was  frequently  interrupted 
by  stout  fences,  which  serve  to  keep  the  cattle  from 
straying. 

In  less  than  two  hours  we  reached  the  Laking  hka, 
of  which  this  was  a tributary.  The  Laking  is  a fair- 
sized river,  thirty  yards  across,  flowing  with  a swift 
current;  just  above  the  confluence  a cane  bridge 
spanned  the  Che-wen  stream,  and  on  the  far  bank 
stood  another  village.  But  of  camping  grounds,  save 
a considerable  pebble  bank  in  the  bed  of  the  Laking, 
there  was  no  sign,  though  to  the  Maru  and  Yawyin 
any  place  where  water,  bamboos  and  firewood  are 
obtainable  is  a camping  ground,  so  there  is  no  need 
for  the  solitary  traveller  to  worry.  Only  I should  not 
care  to  campaign  in  such  a country. 

Immediately  below  the  confluence  of  the  Che-wen 
stream  with  the  Laking  hka  the  latter  enters  a magni- 
ficent limestone  gorge  embroidered  with  rich  forest. 
The  track  soon  leaves  the  boulders  in  the  river  bed 


OVER  THE  WULAW  PASS  139 

and  climbing  sharply,  becomes  difficult;  precipices  are 
ascended  by  means  of  notched  logs,  deep  gullies  crossed 
by  means  of  tree  trunks,  and  both  were  now  slippery 
with  rain  and  mud. 

Presently  we  descended  to  the  river  bed  again, 
where  the  water  foamed  over  rapids,  and  a few  minutes 
later  were  once  more  climbing  steeply  up  a slippery 
path  almost  buried  in  vegetation. 

Came  yet  another  descent  to  the  river  bed,  and  com- 
paratively easy  going  over  the  boulders.  There  was 
a quiet  stretch  of  water  here,  with  a rapid  under  the 
far  bank,  so  one  of  the  Marus,  with  a view  to  display- 
ing his  prowess,  slipped  off  his  kilt — the  only  garment 
he  was  wearing,  by  the  way — and  swam  out  to  mid- 
river, with  slow  breast  stroke,  turning  back  when  he 
met  the  stronger  water  on  the  other  side. 

Lastly  we  climbed  by  a steep,  muddy  path  several 
hundred  feet  above  the  river,  and  emerged  from  the 
forested  gorge  into  more  open  country.  At  dusk  we 
reached  a village  situated  in  a bay  of  the  mountains,  a 
thousand  feet  above  the  river. 

This  village  was  called  Magri,  or  Mang-yam,  and  I 
was  not  a little  surprised  to  meet  five  Chinamen  from 
the  Mekong  valley  here.  They  were  pedlars  from  the 
village  of  Ying-p‘an-kai,  and  were  on  their  way  to  the 
’Nmai  valley,  selling  salt,  cloth  and  iron  cooking  pots. 
They  had  crossed  from  the  Mekong  to  the  Salween 
and  thence  by  Lakhe  Pass,  13,000  feet  high,  into  the 
Laking  valley,  a fifteen  days’ journey. 

So  far  it  had  scarcely  ceased  to  rain,  but  my  Maru 
porters  were  quite  indifferent  to  the  weather,  for  they 
wore  circular  bamboo  hats  almost  as  large  as  an 
umbrella,  and  long  capes  of  palm  leaves  thrown  over 


1 4o  OYER  THE  WULAW  PASS 

their  shoulders,  from  which  the  water  dripped  rapidly. 
Also  each  man  carried  a long  iron-headed  spear  to  help 
him  over  the  slippery  path. 

And  so  we  entered  our  hut,  where  nailed  to  the 
central  pillar  of  the  porch,  and  to  the  beams  inside, 
were  the  skulls  of  wild  animals  slain  in  the  chase  with 
crossbow  and  poisoned  arrow — monkey,  takin,  serow 
and  bear,  besides  domestic  mithan,  which  are  kept  for 
sacrificial  purposes. 


CHAPTER  IX 


BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

THE  valley  was  as  usual  full  of  cloud  in  the 
early  morning,  but  in  spite  of  a preliminary 
shower  it  soon  cleared  up  and  we  enjoyed 
several  hours’  bright  sunshine,  the  first  for  some 
days.  These  continual  remarks  on  the  weather  may 
be  dull — the  weather  was,  anyhow — but  they  are  quite 
necessary  for  a proper  appreciation  of  the  climate 
on  the  North-East  Frontier,  w'ith  its  consequent  re- 
action on  the  scenery,  vegetation  and  people.  All  of 
these  are  in  the  strongest  contrast  to  those  of  the 
more  familiar  North-West  Frontier,  or  (which  is  more 
to  the  point)  to  those  of  the  Yun-nan  mountains  farther 
east. 

Descending  to  the  river  bed  by  a steep  path,  w'e 
pursued  our  way  leisurely  now  over  big  bare  boulders, 
now  through  the  forest  over  some  projecting  cliff. 
Brilliant  orange  and  purple  balsams  coloured  the  rocks, 
and  when  the  sun  came  out  gorgeous  butterflies  flitted 
along  the  fringing  forest  above  the  furious  waters ; 
for  the  river  was  very  swfift  here,  generally  from  forty 
to  sixty  yards  broad. 

At  midday  we  crossed  a big  tributary  by  a swinging 
cane  bridge,  and  dropping  into  the  river  bed  again, 
lay  out  on  a sand-bank  in  the  sunshine  for  lunch. 
Along  came  a man  with  a dead  rat,  which  he  offered 
us ; but  our  supplies  were  not  yet  so  depleted  that 
141 


142  BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

we  needed  to  accept  the  morsel,  and  eventually  he 
ate  it  himself. 

After  a dolce  far  niente — for  it  was  jolly  here  basking 
in  the  sunshine  by  the  singing  river — we  went  on 
down  the  valley  clasped  between  high  wooded  moun- 
tains where  Ficus  trees,  wild  bananas,  and  plumes  of 
' bamboo,  with  here  and  there  graceful  tree  ferns,  and 
down  by  the  water  tall  sago  palms  were  each  in  turn 
conspicuous. 

The  change  in  the  vegetation  was  very  marked 
here. 

Since  crossing  the  Lawkhaung  ridge  in  May  we 
had  seen  no  bananas,  sago  palms  or  fig-tree§;  here 
they  abounded,  with  a wealth  of  forest  trees. 

Pines,  alders  and  rhododendrons,  on  the  other  hand, 
were  lacking.  We  were  back  in  the  monsoon  forest 
again — and  yet  it  was  not  real  monsoon  forest,  for 
there  is  probably  no  period  of  drought  here,  and 
the  forest  is  certainly  evergreen.  We  had  passed  from 
a preponderately  Chinese  flora  to  an  Indo-Malayan 
flora. 

Paddling  through  shallow  water  round  a cliff,  we 
presently  crossed  to  the  right  bank  by  a fine  cane 
bridge  sixty  yards  in  length,  and  toiling  up  the  kbud 
reached  a village  of  seven  huts  called  Tum-dang; 
but  disdaining  to  quit  so  early,  we  descended  to 
the  river  again,  here  goaded  to  uncontrolled  fury  by 
obstructing  boulders,  climbed  over  another  cliff,  and 
finally  reached  Sajor,  comprising  seven  big  huts  perched 
on  a high  spur. 

It  was  languidly  peaceful  up  here  in  these  forgotten 
villages  of  the  warm  Laking  valley,  the  only  sounds 
heard  being  the  rasping  wbir-r-r  wbir-r-r  of  cicadas 


BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER  143 

on  the  tree  trunks,  and  the  river  buffeting  its  way 
through  the  gorge.  As  for  birds,  we  rarely  heard, 
still  less  saw,  any. 

The  huts  were  full  size  now,  not  less  than  sixty 
yards  long,  with  a wide  open  porch  in  front  where 
the  women  pound  corn  or  sit  weaving  cloth.  Over 
the  projecting  front  eave  is  sometimes  set  a sort  of 
crescent,  something  like  a pair  of  mithan  horns,  just 
as  you  see  over  many  huts  in  the  Naga  Hills. 

A thunderstorm  brushed  past  us  in  the  night ; but 
though  we  could  not  see  a hundred  yards  through  the 
mist  at  half-past  six,  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  when 
we  started  two  hours  later. 

Sliding  down  a steep  path  of  red  clay,  with  the 
dew  hanging  in  glistening  drops  on  the  ferns  and 
grasses,  and  on  the  tall  club-mosses  which  stood  erect 
in  the  silver  sand  like  little  fir-trees  crowned  with 
cones,  reminded  me  of  an  autumn  morning  in  England ; 
but  next  moment  we  were  down  by  the  roaring  river 
again,  amidst  palms  and  bamboos.  Clambering  over 
boulders,  along  rock  ledges  and  over  cliffs,  we  passed 
several  cane  bridges,  which  must  have  led  to  villages 
on  the  opposite  bank,  but  they  were  quite  invisible 
in  the  forest,  though  occasionally  we  glimpsed  clearings 
high  up. 

Presently  we  came  to  a fish-trap  out  in  mid-river, 
where  stood  a big  boulder.  A stout  post  had  been 
driven  into  the  river  bed  near  by,  and  a couple  of 
cane  ropes  stretched  from  a tree  overhanging  the  bank 
to  this  post.  Slung  on  the  ropes  were  two  large 
cane  rings,  about  a foot  in  diameter,  and  to  reach 
the  fish-trap  you  climbed  the  tree,  thrust  a leg  through 
each  ring,  as  it  were  a breeches-buoy,  and  holding 


i44  BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

on  to  the  cables,  hauled  yourself  along.  It  was  hard 
enough  work  going  down,  with  the  sag  of  the  ropes 
to  help  you,  but  infinitely  worse  getting  back  again. 
If  you  let  go  to  rest  your  arms  you  fell  out  of  the 
rings  into  the  river  below,  or  at  least  hung  head 
downwards,  with  little  prospect  of  regaining  an  upright 
position. 

The  going  now,  whether  actually  in  the  dry  river 
bed  or  traversing  through  the  forest  on  the  mountain- 
side, became  worse  and  worse,  much  labour  for  little 
progress.  Path  there  was  none,  except  in  the  forest, 
where  there  was  generally  a track. 

Once  when  pulling  myself  up  amongst  the  rocks 
I almost  put  my  hand  on  a snake  which  was  sunning 
itself  on  a flat-topped  boulder ; whereupon,  at  a warning 
cry  from  the  man  behind,  a Maru  in  front  whipped 
out  his  dab  and  turning  cut  at  it  so  swiftly  that  he 
almost  had  some  of  my  fingers  off  instead  of  the 
snake’s  head.  He  was  only  a little  fellow — the 
snake  I mean,  not  the  Maru — about  two  feet  long, 
black,  with  a yellow  collar  and  coral-red  speckles, 
probably  harmless ; but  I always  found  the  natives 
show  the  same  instinctive  distrust  for  reptiles  that 
Europeans  do. 

The  hillmen  are  very  jealous  of  their  dabs , any  in- 
jury against  a rock  causing  great  distress.  Whenever 
we  halted  in  the  river  bed  they  would  search  out 
suitable  flat  stones  and,  squatting  down,  set  to  work 
sharpening  their  precious  knives. 

Farther  on  we  came  to  a group  of  almost  naked 
men  squatting  round  the  embers  of  a fire  over  a midday 
meal  of  boiled  rice,  which  they  were  eating  with  their 
fingers  from  banana  leaves.  They  looked  such  utter 


BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER  145 

savages  squatting  there  in  the  dark  jungle  that  it  was 
difficult  to  recognise  in  them  the  mild  Marus. 

It  is  rather  strange  that  the  whole  Tibeto-Burman 
family,  even  the  highly  civilised  Burmans  themselves, 
should  eat  with  their  fingers,  while  their  near  neigh- 
bours, the  Chinese,  have  invented  the  ingenious  and 
simple  chopsticks  for  the  same  purpose. 

Now  we  crossed  a tributary  stream  flowing  in  a 
deep  gorge,  by  three  large  bamboos  thrown  across 
and  lashed  together,  further  supported  by  cables  of 
twisted  bamboo  fastened  to  trees  on  either  bank;  a 
flimsy  hand-rail  was  also  provided,  designed  more  with 
a view  to  give  confidence  than  for  actual  support,  as 
the  bamboos  were  slippery. 

We  were  down  in  the  tropical  jungles  again  now, 
though  actually  more  than  200  miles  north  of  the 
tropics.  On  every  hand  grew  splendid  Ficus  trees, 
from  the  trunks  of  which  dangled  huge  bunches  of 
green  fig-like  fruit.  Another  species  with  curiously 
lop-sided  leaves  dropped  from  its  lowest  branches  long 
whip-like  shoots,  which,  trailing  over  the  ground,  bore 
luscious  fruit.  These  we  searched  out  and  ate.  Most 
of  the  vast  order  of  figs,  so  typical  of  the  oriental 
forests,  and  so  diverse  in  habit  and  appearance  (yet  so 
easily  recognised  in  all  its  forms,  from  giant  tree  to 
humble  prostrate  creeper),  have  inedible  fruits,  but  this 
(F.  cunid)  was  an  exception. 

In  the  river  bed  we  found  a mangosteen 1 tree  and 
picked  up  some  quite  good  fruit,  which  we  likewise 
ate. 

Then  there  were  bird’s-nest  ferns  sprouting  bayonet- 
like from  trees  whose  boughs  were  fringed  with  oak- 

1 Garcinia  sp. 


1 46  BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

leaf  ferns,  and  roped  together  with  corkscrew  lianas  ; 
violet  and  yellow  Chirita  on  the  wet  rocks,  and  in 
the  dark  dampness  of  the  bamboos  the  mottled  stem 
and  solitary  leaf  of  an  Amorphophallus.  But  right 
down  in  the  river  bed,  where  the  sun  glistened  fiercely 
on  the  white  granite  boulders,  scraggy  bushes  of 
Rhododendron  indicum  recalled  the  cold  mountains. 

And  yet  here  in  the  tropical  jungle,  where  snakes 
and  vicious-looking  Nland  crabs  crawled  over  the  rocks, 
and  poisonous  thorns  grew  across  the  path,  we  were  far 
less  teased  by  insect  life  at  night  than  we  had  been  in 
the  wild  wet  mountains  guarded  by  those  terrible  sand- 
flies. 

After  more  climbing  we  came  to  a part  of  the  river 
where  the  bed  shelved  rapidly  and  was  choked  by 
cyclopean  blocks  of  white  granite  which  reflected  a 
blinding  glare  of  light  in  the  bright  sunshine.  Here 
the  river,  by  this  time  swollen  to  a considerable  size, 
was  a wonderful  sight,  and  from  a cane  bridge  just 
below  a splendid  view  of  the  water  foaming  dowrn  this 
granite  stairway  was  obtained. 

Amidst  sand  and  boulders  under  the  bank  grew  a 
gigantic  Mucuna,  hung  all  over  with  bunches  of  coarse, 
canary-yellow,  fleshy  flowers.  They  are  like  pea- 
flowers,  but  thick  and  bloated  and  without  the  wide- 
spreading  standard.  The  interlacing  stems  grow  as 
thick  as  a man’s  wrist,  and  the  plant  forms  slovenly 
bushes  needing  support,  like  a wistaria.  The  pods  are 
covered  with  short,  stiff,  orange-coloured  bristles,  which 
come  off  easily  and  stick  into  the  skin,  setting  up 
irritation. 

Soon  after  leaving  the  cane  bridge  we  climbed  up  to 
another  village — all  the  villages  are  perched  on  flat- 


BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER  147 

shouldered  spurs — and  rested  for  an  hour  while  I had 
some  tea.  There  were  fields  of  cotton  here. 

It  seemed  doubtful  whether  we  should  reach  Laking, 
the  village  at  the  confluence  of  the  Laking  hka  with 
the  ’Nmai,  that  night  or  not;  but  I was  determined  to 
try,  so  about  five  o’clock  we  set  out  again. 

Continuing  the  ascent,  wre  were  soon  high  above  the 
river,  which  plunged  down  deeper  and  deeper  into  the 
bowels  of  the  earth,  till  close  upon  sunset  we  stood  on 
the  last  spur  and  looked  clear  away  westward  down 
the  nowr  open  valley ; and  black  against  the  western 
glare  a high  range  of  softly  rounded  mountains  appeared, 
drawn  clean  across  the  horizon.  It  was  the  containing 
wall  of  the  ’Nmai  hka — the  Irrawaddy  itself! 

Behind  us  grey  storm  clouds  were  piling  up  on  the 
mountains  we  had  lately  crossed,  but  in  front  the  sun, 
wrapped  in  mackerel  sky,  had  turned  the  clouds  into  a 
broad  lake  of  chequered  silver. 

Numerous  deep  gullies  spun  out  the  journey,  and  in 
places  steep  slabs  of  granite  lay  athwart  the  mountain- 
side, in  crossing  some  of  which  wre  experienced  difficulty 
in  keeping  our  balance,  so  that  one  of  the  porters  fell 
and  cut  himself  painfully. 

At  last  a deeper  rent  than  usual  yawmed  below'  us 
like  a wround  in  the  mountain-side,  but  descending  the 
path  into  complete  darkness  far  below',  there  was  heard 
only  a feeble  trickle  of  water,  as  though  the  torrent, 
exhausted  after  its  hard  work  of  carving  out  this 
canyon,  had  slumbered. 

A grow'l  of  thunder  in  the  mountains  behind  now" 
spurred  us  on,  and  climbing  up  from  the  depths,  we 
reached  the  first  huts  of  Laking  at  seven  o’clock,  just 
as  the  rain  began.  We  had  been  ten  hours  on  the  road. 


1 48  BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

Men  now  came  out  with  lighted  torches,  and  we 
were  ushered  into  an  enormous  hut  quite  sixty  yards 
in  length,  while  outside  a thunderstorm  swooping  down 
from  the  east  lit  up  the  valley  with  brilliant  flashes  of 
lightning;  however,  it  was  never  really  very  near, 
though  the  porters  behind,  who  arrived  an  hour  later, 
came  in  soaked. 

By  ten  o’clock  the  moon  was  shining  again,  lighting 
up  little  wisps  of  clouds  which  floated  far  down  in  the 
valley;  the  night  was  now  as  tranquil  as  a New  Year’s 
night  in  the  Indian  Ocean. 

As  already  stated,  the  Maru  hut,  like  the  Kachin,  is 
an  enormous  structure,  sixty  or  seventy  yards  in  length, 
by  fifteen  to  twenty  in  breadth,  divided  by  a longitudi- 
nal partition  into  a passage  on  one  side  and  rooms  on 
the  other. 

The  rooms  are  more  or  less  completely  divided  from 
each  other  and  from  the  passage,  each  room  opening  on 
to  the  latter  by  a door,  and  on  to  the  outside  world  by 
a tiny  window  under  the  eave.  The  front  room  of  the 
hut — that  next  the  porch — is  larger,  occupying  the  full 
breadth,  but  is  not  completely  shut  off  from  the  pass- 
age, being  divided  from  it  by  alternating  walls  which 
jut  half-way  across  from  either  side,  leaving  a passage 
in  between.  As  the  whole  is  in  complete  darkness, 
even  by  day,  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  find  the  way 
about  at  first,  and  one  not  unnaturally  blunders  into  all 
kinds  of  sacred  family  hearths.  Happily  the  “ maidens’ 
hearth  ” is  not  tapu , otherwise  embarrassing  mistakes 
might  easily  be  made. 

Each  room  is  provided  with  its  earthen  hearth,  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  passage,  being  open 
to  the  public,  has  two  or  three  such  hearths  at 


BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER  149 

intervals  down  its  length.  The  “ maidens’  hearth,” 
reserved  to  the  unmarried  girls  and  their  lovers,1  is 
the  last  room  in  the  hut,  next  to  the  back  door,  which 
is  tapu  to  humans,  being  reserved  for  the  nats,  though 
doubtless  used  by  sly  lovers  at  night.2 

In  front  of  the  hut  is  the  huge  porch,  fenced  round, 
and  partly  covered  in  by  the  gable  roof  which  projects 
forward  like  the  stem  of  a ship,  being  cut  away  at 
the  sides.  Great  wooden  pillars  support  the  heavily 
thatched  roof,  that  beneath  the  gable  end  being,  so 
to  speak,  the  corner-stone  of  the  house. 

In  the  porch  women  pound  grain  and  weave  cloth 
by  day ; cattle  are  tied  up  at  night ; while  the  pigs 
live  beneath  the  hut  floor,  and  fowls  occupy  baskets 
under  the  eaves. 

These  huts  are  always  dark,  blackened  with  smoke 
and  indescribably  dirty;  the  smell  of  pigs  rises  through 
the  bamboo  floor,  and  roosters  awaken  you  at  an 
early  hour.  But  the  people  are  friendly,  a circum- 
stance which  goes  a long  way  to  make  up  for  any 
other  shortcomings. 

The  morning  of  2nd  September  broke  beautifully 
fine,  and  the  village  of  Laking,  with  its  tall  sago  palms, 
clumps  of  bamboo  and  slopes  yellow  with  Indian  corn, 
looked  a happy  spot  in  the  mellow  sunshine;  it  was 
warm  down  here  too,  the  minimum  falling  only  to 
68°  F. 

The  village  is  built  in  two  parts,  the  upper  half 
being  several  hundred  feet  above  the  lower.  Far 

1 See  Chapter  X. 

2 In  some  parts  the  “ maidens’  hearth  ” is  the  first  room  in  the 
hut  next  to  the  porch.  The  end  room  is  often  a store-room  for 
grain  and  liquor. 


150  BY  THE  SINGING  RIVER 

below  a twisting  thread  of  white  foam  indicates  the 
Laking  hka,  and  across  the  western  sky,  framed 
between  bold  spurs,  stretches  a range  of  forested 
mountains,  forming  the  watershed  between  the  eastern 
and  western  branches  of  the  Irrawaddy. 

The  Marus  of  the  Upper  ’Nmai  hka  valley,  being 
more  uncouth  than  those  of  the  south,  are  distinguished 
as  Naingvaws 1 ; but  they  are  none  the  less  Marus. 
The  distinction  is  geographical,  not  racial. 

Here  the  young  girls  wear  girdles  of  cane  consisting 
of  two  or  three  strands  on  which  are  closely  strung 
white  cowry  shells,  a picturesque  ornament — for  it 
does  not  serve  the  purpose  of  a belt  to  hold  up  the 
kirtle — marred  only  by  a certain  looseness  and  un- 
tidiness ; but  some  of  the  girls  wore  the  Kachin  belt, 
consisting  of  coils  of  fine  black  rattan  cane,  even 
looser  and  more  slovenly  than  the  former. 

Often  a cloak  of  native  manufacture  is  thrown  over 
the  head  and  hangs  down  behind,  giving  them  a very 
chic  appearance.  It  reminds  one  of  the  towel  thrown 
over  the  head  of  a Malay  girl,  though  the  latter  is 
probably  a half-hearted  attempt  at  concession  to 
Mohammedan  purda  custom. 

As  is  usual,  the  Marus  down  in  the  valley  are  better 
dressed,  live  in  bigger  huts  and  are  better  off  in  all 
respects  than  those  higher  up  in  the  mountains. 

1 The  Marus  call  themselves  Lawng  vaw.  Naingvaw  may  be  a 
local  name,  but  is  more  likely  an  English  corruption.  The  word 
Maru  is  the  Kachin  name.  (See  Appendix  II.) 


CHAPTER  X 


AMONG  THE  MARUS 


1RST  I paid  off  all  the  men  who  wished  to 


return  to  their  homes,  including  my  Maru 


interpreter,  who  was  useless,  since  he  spoke  no 
language  known  to  me.  Two  Yawyin  porters  from 
the  Ngawchang  valley  and  five  Lashis  from  Hpimaw 
went  with  him,  leaving  only  five  of  our  original  party, 
including  myself  and  T‘ung-ch‘ien. 

It  was  late  w'hen  we  started  with  Maru  porters, 
men,  women  and  girls,  in  place  of  those  returning; 
the  latter  crossed  the  river  below,  and  started  south 
on  their  long  tramp,  but  we  went  on  down  the  valley 
to  the  ’Nmai  hka.  They  must  have  been  back  in 
their  snug  huts,  away  in  the  Hpimaw'  hills,  long  before 
we  reached  Fort  Hertz. 

The  heat  was  now  intense,  and  I was  glad  to  halt 
at  midday  and  have  a meal  in  the  shade,  and  a shower- 
bath  under  the  splash  of  a cascade  that  poured  into 
a sandy  pit  surrounded  by  bushes.  Some  of  the  girls 
did  the  same. 

The  Marus,  when  on  the  march,  carry  their  day’s 
ration  of  rice  ready  boiled  and  wrapped  in  a banana 
leaf,  so  that  they  can  squat  down  and  eat  it  whenever 
they  feel  inclined. 

For  the  first  time  I made  my  terrier  pup,  named 
Maru,  in  anticipation  of  his  experiences  in  the  Maru 
country,  follow  on  foot  instead  of  being  carried  in 


151 


152  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

state  in  a basket  as  hitherto.  He  kept  up  well,  and 
thoroughly  enjoyed  himself  in  the  sunshine,  finding 
much  to  whet  his  canine  curiosity  along  the  roadside. 

Watching  him  as  he  sniffed  his  way  along,  fre- 
quently stopping  to  examine  carefully  an  unknown 
smell,  I wondered  how  many  new  ones  he  found, 
whether  his  knowledge  was  sufficient  yet  to  enable 
him  to  classify  them,  and  what  deductions  were  to  be 
drawn  therefrom. 

In  the  afternoon  we  had  a long  pull  up  a well-made 
but  badly  aligned  path  to  the  summit  of  a spur,  from 
which  we  looked  right  down  into  the  ’Nmai  valley, 
though  the  river  itself,  some  2000  feet  below  us,  was 
invisible. 

The  last  part  of  the  ascent  was  very  steep,  and  the 
young  men  who  reached  the  summit  first  threw  down 
their  loads  ; but  instead  of  resting  they  chivalrously 
went  back  and  relieved  the  girls  and  old  men,  who 
had  lagged  behind,  of  their  burdens.  I think  the 
young  Maru  beaux  must  be  very  affectionate  husbands, 
or  at  any  rate  lovers ; courtship  with  them  is  a fine 
art. 

As  already  remarked,  the  Marus  are  not  over- 
burdened with  clothes,  and  during  the  heat  of  a 
summer’s  day  they  are  reduced  to  a minimum. 

The  men  wore  only  a short  lone-gyi  and  stopped  to 
bathe  in  nearly  every  stream  we  came  to.  The  married 
women,  who  are  distinguished  by  a sort  of  white 
turban,  like  a dirty  pudding-cloth  after  a suet  dumpling 
has  been  boiled  in  it,  perched  on  top  of  the  head, 
never  hesitated  to  take  off  their  thin  jackets,  and  the 
girls  sometimes  did  the  same,  though  generally  throwing 
it  over  the  shoulders  to  conceal  the  breasts.  The  girls. 


Photo  by]  [A.  W . Porter,  Esq. 

Maru  Women  Pounding  Maize. 

Note  the  striped  hand-woven  skirts.  These  are  dyed  dark  blue  and  red. 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  153 

however,  always  tucked  their  lone-gyi  up  to  their  knees 
at  least,  in  fact  the  garment  is  not  much  longer  at  its 
full  extent.  They  wear  nothing  on  their  heads,  and 
cut  the  hair  in  a fringe  round  the  forehead,  after  the 
manner  of  a Burmese  sadouk , the  rest  of  it  being  cut 
short  so  as  to  form  a mop. 

The  men  also  go  about  bareheaded  in  the  sunshine, 
but  if  going  a day’s  journey  or  more  they  often  carry 
a flat,  broad-brimmed  hat,  like  a plate,  with  a small 
conical  peak  in  the  centre ; the  framework  is  of  coarsely 
plaited  bamboo,  with  palm  leaf  woven  into  it,  but  it  is 
certainly  not  the  equal  in  workmanship  of  the  Yun-nan 
muleteer’s  finely  woven  bamboo  hat. 

Cloaks  made  of  overlapping  strips  of  palm  leaf,  ar- 
ranged horizontally,  or  of  fibrous  cocoanut  leaf  sheaths, 
threaded  on  a string  and  tied  over  the  shoulders,  are 
also  worn  in  wet  weather. 

Everyone  goes  about  barefooted,  and  all,  even  the 
children,  smoke. 

From  the  spur  on  which  we  stood  we  looked  north- 
wards across  to  the  village  of  Tawlang,  on  another 
lower  spur,  where  we  arrived  at  five-thirty.  The  valley 
was  fairly  open  here,  rather  bare  of  trees  except  in 
the  gullies,  which  were  choked  with  jungle,  generally 
clothed  with  high  grass  and  shrubs. 

Tawlang,  where  Captain  Pottinger’s  party  Avas 
attacked  and  forced  to  return  to  Myitkyina  in  1897, 
is  surrounded  by  a low  stockade  and  looks  a flourishing 
village. 

Between  the  Laking  hka  and  the  Mekh,  the  left 
bank  of  the  ’Nmai  is,  comparatively  speaking,  well 
populated,  and  there  are  large  taungya  of  maize  and 
mountain  rice,  wfith  wralnut-trees,  sago  palms,  big 


i54  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

clumps  of  bamboo,  and  small  crops  of  cotton,  indigo,1 
marrows,  beans  and  buckwheat,  fenced  in  amongst  the 
huts. 

Just  after  our  arrival  the  sky  darkened  and  a brief 
thunderstorm  passed  over  the  valley,  travelling  west, 
but  at  seven  o’clock  there  was  a beautiful  moonrise.  At 
eight  the  temperature  was  still  750  F.  and  the  moon- 
light brilliant,  but  two  hours  later  another  brief  storm 
passed  over. 

It  was  difficult  to  sleep  on  such  a bright  night,  nor 
was  the  continuous  whir , whir  of  cicadas  soothing. 
At  short  intervals  the  encircling  mountains  echoed  to 
the  cries  of  small  children  who,  perched  up  in  little 
huts  on  the  steep  taungya , watched  the  maize  crops 
under  the  glow  of  the  full  moon ; suddenly  there 
would  come  a furious  clap , clap  as  a string  was  pulled 
and  a bamboo  rattle  in  a distant  corner  sent  a frightened 
monkey  speeding  back  into  the  jungle. 

September  3rd  was  another  fine,  hot  day,  the 
minimum  falling  to  68*5°  F.  and  the  shade  temperature 
at  eleven  o’clock  being  just  over  8o°  F. ; at  ten  p.m.  it 
was  still  740  F. 

In  point  of  distance  we  were  barely  three  miles  from 
the  next  village,  Ngawyaw,  but  the  path  led  us  up 
over  a spur,  then  down  into  a deep  gully,  and  so  up 
to  the  summit  of  the  next  spur,  high  above  and  well 
away  from  the  still  invisible  ’Nmai  hka.  The  march 
with  halts  took  us  five  hours  in  the  hottest  part  of  the 
day — for  we  started  late,  and  it  was  a relief  to  bathe 
in  the  torrent  we  crossed,  where  even  the  mountain 
water  felt  quite  warm. 

In  these  enclosed  valleys  the  day  temperature  falls  very 

1 Strobilanthcs  jiaccidifolius. 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  155 

slowly  with  increased  altitude,  at  least  to  begin  with; 
we  were  over  3000  feet  above  sea-level  at  this  time. 

The  mountains  flanking  the  left  bank  of  the  ’Nmai 
hka  are  of  granite,  with  occasional  outcrops  of  lime- 
stone, as  at  Hpimaw ; often,  in  the  jungle  especially, 
the  granite  is  decomposed  to  a sticky  red  clay.  A 
thick  scrub  covers  the  open  slopes,  and  in  the  gullies 
are  purple-flowered  Melastoma,  orchids,  ferns,  huge- 
leafed  Alocasia  and  palms,  with  purple  and  sulphur- 
yellow  Chirita  on  the  wet  rocks,  giving  a more  tropical 
appearance  to  the  vegetation.  Magnificent  butterflies 
are  seen  everywhere,  especially  at  elevations  of  from 
2000  to  4000  feet. 

That  night  there  was  a beautiful  sunset  and  the 
full  moon  rising  over  the  black  mountains  and  flooding 
the  gulf  below  us  ufith  orange  light  was  superb. 

Heavy  rain  in  the  early  morning  and  the  valley  full 
of  cloud  threatened  a wet  day  on  4th  September,  but  by 
eight  o’clock  it  was  clearing  up  rapidly,  and  after  mid- 
day we  had  continuous  sunshine.  Nothing  surprised 
me  so  much  as  the  fine  weather  experienced  on  our 
march  up  the  ’Nmai  valley,  from  31st  August  to  1 8th 
September,  during  the  worst  of  the  rains  to  east  and 
west  of  us.  A fair  amount  of  rain  fell,  but  it  was 
mostly  in  the  form  of  brief  squalls  from  the  eastern 
ranges,  and  generally  fell  either  in  the  early  morning 
or  in  the  evening.  It  was  not  like  a ten  days’  break, 
which  may  come  at  any  time,  such  as  one  experiences 
in  many  parts  of  Burma  during  the  monsoon,  but 
seemed  to  be  the  usual  thing;  excluding  rain  after 
dark,  we  had  no  less  than  ten  days  without  rain,  a 
relief  after  our  experiences  on  the  Wulaw  Pass  and  at 
Hpimaw. 


156  AMONG  THE  MARTJS 

Our  march  on  4th  September  was  again  a short  one, 
though  it  took  us  five  hours,  thanks  to  the  climbing  up 
and  down,  and  the  partiality  of  the  Marus  for  bathing ; 
the  girls,  however,  always  stayed  apart  (and  watched) 
during  these  ablutions — you  could  hear  them  tittering 
behind  the  bushes,  and  consequently  I am  bound  to 
confess,  with  pain,  that  the  male  sex  were  the  cleaner. 
I do  not  know  why  the  girls  were  prudish  about  it ; 
they  wrere  not  modest  about  taking  oflf  their  jackets, 
or  tucking  up  their  already  abbreviated  skirts,  and  the 
men  did  not  strip  themselves. 

However,  it  was  very  pleasant  to  have  girl  porters, 
for  they  were  always  merry  and  bright,  kept  the  men 
in  a good  temper  and  were  not  ill-favoured  to  look 
upon. 

Just  outside  the  village  of  Ngawyaw  were  several 
crude  images  of  human  beings  carved  out  of  short 
wooden  posts  stuck  in  the  ground.  One  of  them  was 
most  obscene.  A similar  obscenity  was  noticed  much 
later  in  a Kachin  village  far  to  the  west,  between 
Fort  Hertz  and  Myitkyina,  where  some  conical-shaped 
stones,  probably  of  natural  origin,  and  bearing  some 
resemblance  to  the  human  penis,  had  been  stuck  in  the 
ground  at  the  entrance  to  the  village.  In  the  Maru 
hut  too  the  ends  of  the  long  beams  which  project  into 
the  porch  are  finished  oflf  in  a manner  which  might  be 
taken  to  represent  the  penis,  while  on  the  cross-beams, 
snakes  and  the  head  of  some  horned  animal,  whether 
deer,  goat  or  fabulous  monster  it  is  difficult  to  say,  are 
frequently  carved.  It  would  be  interesting  to  know  if 
these  things  have  any  connection  with  the  Bon  religion 
of  Tibet,  a system  of  phallic  worship. 

The  most  callow  carving  is  also  to  be  seen  at  the 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  157 

graves,  which  are  curious.  The  dead  are  burned,  and 
the  ashes  buried  in  a circular  mound  surrounded  by 
a trench  two  feet  deep.  Over  the  mound  is  raised  a 
conical,  strawr-thatched  roof,  and  tall  bamboo  poles  bear 
aloft  sign-boards  on  which  are  carved  human  figures, 
birds,  snakes  eating  each  other,  and  heads  with  horns. 

From  the  summit  of  the  next  spur  we  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  ’Nmai  hka  to  the  north,  several  thousand 
feet  below  us,  but  this  distant  view'  gave  us  no  idea  of 
its  size.  With  its  endless  procession  of  precipitous 
razor-backed  spurs,  divided  by  deep  gullies  filled  with 
rich  vegetation,  it  closely  resembles  the  valleys  of 
the  Mekong  and  Salw'een  in  north- w^est  Yun-nan — it 
would  be  difficult  to  tell  from  a photograph  which 
was  which,  though  the  dryness  of  the  Mekong  valley 
and  consequent  poverty  of  vegetation  would  be  sufficient 
to  identify  it. 

A terrific  descent  brought  us  to  a big  torrent  crossed 
by  a cane  suspension  bridge,  and  then  came  the  usual 
long  climb  up  to  the  village. 

Already  three  adventurous  Marus,  desiring  to  see 
something  of  the  world,  had  attached  themselves  per- 
manently to  our  party,  thus  swelling  our  numbers  to 
eight.  This  was  a great  convenience,  as  it  reduced  the 
number  of  porters  to  be  commandeered  daily  to  six  or 
eight,  the  number  of  loads  having  been  reduced  as  our 
stores  rapidly  diminished.  This  balance  was  made  up 
each  morning  from  the  village  where  we  slept. 

The  Marus,  or  Naingvaws,  as  they  are  called  here, 
are  short,  sturdy  and  deep-chested,  resembling  Burmans 
more  closely  than  do  the  Kachins,  though  this  may  be 
in  part  due  to  their  dress. 

They  carry  their  loads  by  means  of  a strap  passing 


158  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

over  the  forehead  and  not  with  a shoulder-board  as  do 
the  Lashis  and  Yawyins,  a method  probably  learnt  from 
the  Chinese,  with  whom  these  latter  come  in  frequent 
contact. 

The  complexion  is  a dark  copper,  the  face  round, 
nose  broad  and  flattened,  eyes  almond-shaped,  hair  short, 
straight  and  black,  usually  tied  in  a knot  on  the  top  of 
the  head. 

They  are  cheerful  companions,  and  if  not  very  ener- 
getic, are  actually  capable  of  great  physical  exertion 
when  put  to  the  test,  as  we  subsequently  discovered. 

That  night  the  full  moon  rose  partially  eclipsed  into 
a clear  sky  and  by  eight  o’clock  the  eclipse  was  almost 
total ; it  was  extraordinary  to  watch  the  glowing  velvet 
sky,  in  which  formerly  none  but  the  most  brilliant  stars 
had  been  visible,  slowly  turning  black  till  stars  of  the 
second  and  third  magnitude  shone  out  like  lamps  being 
lit  in  a distant  city,  and  the  heavens  sparkled  with  the 
full  splendour  of  a starlight  night. 

Meanwhile  the  villagers  had  become  greatly  excited, 
believing  that  a devil  was  devouring  the  moon.  A pro- 
cession formed  up,  and  paraded  with  gongs,  which  they 
banged  lustily,  shouting  as  they  circled  round  a barrel- 
shaped drum  on  which  a small  boy  operated  as  it  lay 
on  the  ground. 

Finally  the  procession  moved  off  through  the  village, 
carrying  the  gongs  above  their  heads  and  flapping  their 
arms  to  a sort  of  cake-walk,  while  a child  not  much 
bigger  than  the  tom-tom  staggered  along  with  that 
instrument  for  another  person  to  hammer. 

After  a time  the  efforts  of  these  merry  roysterers 
were  rewarded,  the  devil  grew  frightened  and  sicked 
up  the  moon  even  as  the  whale  did  Jonah,  and  presently 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  159 

its  silver  rim  reappeared,  and  by  ten  o’clock  the  ex- 
hausted band  stood  in  the  full  flood  of  moonlight,  their 
labours  ended.  As  for  me,  I went  to  bed. 

The  whole  performance  was  strongly  reminiscent  of 
scenes  in  a Chinese  village  when  a big  dog  swallows 
the  moon. 

September  5. — Minimum  69’  i°  F.  The  day  broke 
gloomy  and  threatening  after  heavy  rain  in  the  morning. 
Masses  of  cloud  came  boiling  up  from  the  gorge  below, 
but  no  more  rain  fell,  though  the  sky  remained  overcast 
and  the  atmosphere  was  sultry. 

After  crossing  one  spur,  from  which  the  ’Nmai  was 
visible,  we  reached  a village  of  a few  huts  on  the 
summit  of  the  next,  where  the  porters  suggested 
stopping  the  night. 

However,  as  the  Mekh  rame  1 was  visible  just  below 
us,  and  beyond  that,  over  a low  spur,  the  ’Nmai  hka,  I 
was  anxious  to  push  on,  feeling  that  substantial  pro- 
gress would  have  been  made  once  we  were  across  that 
river;  a dim  realisation  of  the  task  we  had  set  ourselves 
was  beginning  to  dawn  on  me,  and  I foresaw  a shortage 
of  food  in  the  near  future.  The  four  weeks’  march  for 
which  I had  prepared  would  be  up  in  another  four  days, 
and  we  were  barely  half-way  yet ! 

I had  abandoned  all  thought  of  crossing  the  ’Nmai 
hka  and  thence  proceeding  through  the  “triangle” 
(the  country  enclosed  between  the  Mali  hka  and  the 
’Nmai  hka)  to  the  Hkamti  Long  road — indeed  I could 
get  no  certain  information  of  a bridge  over  the  ’Nmai, 
except  one  which  was  said  to  be  destroyed. 

There  probably  are  routes  westwards  from  the  ’Nmai 

1 Rame  is  a Kachin  word  for  river  or  stream.  Hka  means  a big 
river.  Zup  means  a small  stream. 


160  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

valley,  however,  for  the  “ triangle  ” is  said  to  be  thickly 
populated ; but  the  absence  of  villages  on  the  right 
bank  of  the  river  is  curious.  The  mountains  on  that 
side  seem  to  dip  even  more  steeply  into  the  water  than 
they  do  on  the  left  bank. 

Another  reason  why  I wished  to  get  across  the  Mekh 
now  was  because  there  did  not  appear  to  be  enough 
porters  in  this  village  to  supply  our  wants,  and  our 
present  lot  would  be  sure  to  sneak  off  and  leave  us 
stranded ; whereas,  could  I once  get  them  across  the 
river,  we  might  persuade  them  to  go  on  to  the  next 
village. 

So  we  started  off,  and  a dreadful  descent  of  over 
2000  feet  down  a slippery  path — for  the  granite  had  de- 
composed to  a sticky  clay — brought  us  at  last  to  the 
Mekh  rame ; after  that  the  going  got  worse  and  worse. 

The  Mekh,  up  which  we  proceeded  for  half-a-mile 
from  near  its  confluence  with  the  ’Nmai  hka,  by  a most 
difficult,  rocky  path,  is  a brawling  river,  here  about  fifty 
yards  wide,  crossed  by  a cane  suspension  bridge  sixty 
yards  in  length  and  at  least  fifty  feet  above  the  water. 
Just  before  entering  the  ’Nmai  it  bends  to  the  north, 
and  has  cut  its  way  in  a half-moon  through  the  enclos- 
ing wall  of  the  latter,  so  that  for  the  last  part  of  its 
course  it  flows  in  a deep  gorge,  precipitous  cliffs  rising 
on  either  side,  that  on  the  right  bank  forming  a narrow 
wall  between  the  two  rivers ; and  having  crossed  the 
bridge — a matter  of  giddy  difficulty,  for  it  swayed  from 
side  to  side  at  every  step;  the  men  as  usual  gallantly 
carrying  the  girls’  loads  across  for  them — it  was  up  this 
rock  wall  we  had  to  climb. 

Along  either  bank  of  the  Mekh  the  path  was 
difficult,  as  we  had  to  clamber  up  and  down  precipices, 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  161 

along  rock  ledges  and  slippery  logs,  and  over  boulders, 
so  that  Maru,  who  so  far  had  followed  very  well,  had 
to  be  carried  most  of  the  way. 

From  the  river  bed  we  hauled  ourselves  up  the 
face  of  the  cliff  by  means  of  roots  and  creepers — how 
the  porters  did  it  with  their  loads  I don’t  know  to 
this  day,  but  it  is  a fact  that  had  they  not  carried 
them  by  means  of  a head-strap,  leaving  both  hands 
free,  the  feat  would  have  been  impossible. 

Once  on  the  edge  of  the  wall-like  spur,  matters 
became  easier,  though  the  path  was  still  very  steep. 

It  was  curious  to  hear  first  one  river  and  then  the 
other  as  the  path  turned  to  this  or  that  side  of  the  spur 
between  the  two,  first  the  deep  boom  of  the  ’Nmai 
hka  like  a mastiff  growling,  followed  by  the  shrill 
rattle  of  the  Mekh  as  the  path  crossed  to  the  other 
side.  From  high  up  on  the  spur,  which  was  well 
wooded,  we  looked  down  between  the  trees  on  to  the 
’Nmai  hka,  a cataract  of  foam  it  appeared,  nearly  as 
big  as  the  Mekong,  and  then  we  plunged  once  more 
into  the  forest. 

Evening  now  came  on,  and  the  Marus  informed  me 
that  it  was  impossible  to  reach  the  next  village  that 
night,  and  that  we  should  have  to  camp  in  the  forest ; 
but  presently  one  of  them  remembered  a fresh  hill 
clearing  and  hut  on  the  steep  slope  to  the  right,  and 
down  we  plunged  towards  the  Mekh  again  in  search 
of  it. 

Stumbling  and  tripping  over  tree  trunks  in  the 
darkness,  we  were  soon  aware  of  the  clearing,  and 
presently  found  the  hut,  a poor  little  shanty  standing 
by  itself  in  this  lonely  wilderness,  whereupon  my 
personal  servants  commandeered  it  for  me  and  them- 


1 62  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

selves,  turning  the  inmates  and  the  other  porters  out 
into  the  jungle  for  the  night.  Even  so,  there  was 
no  room  to  put  up  my  camp  cot,  and  I slept  on  the 
floor;  but  we  had  been  nine  hours  on  the  march 
and  I could  have  slept  standing. 

Next  morning  when  we  came  to  apportion  the  loads 
we  found  that  what  I had  feared  had  indeed  come 
to  pass — several  of  the  porters  had  decamped  at  dawn. 
We  should  have  been  in  rather  a fix  if  it  had  not 
been  for  a party  of  young  men  from  the  village  above 
turning  up  unexpectedly  and  offering  to  go  back  with 
us.  So  regaining  the  path  along  the  ridge  crest,  we 
went  our  way  rejoicing. 

Picture  us,  then,  still  toiling  up  the  granite  spur 
in  the  angle  between  the  two  rivers,  the  powerful 
’Nmai  hka  and  the  agile  Mekh  rame,  till  never  an 
echo  of  all  that  tumult  below  floated  up  to  us. 

Sometimes  we  were  in  the  shade  of  the  forest, 
where  mosquitoes  and  red  ants  worried  us,  sometimes 
in  the  open,  where  gorgeous  butterflies  sported  in  the 
glaring  sunshine,  till  at  last  we  reached  a bare  shoulder 
of  the  hill-side  and  bore  away  eastwards  up  the  Mekh 
valley,  though  that  river  was  no  longer  visible. 

Three  hours’  steady  climbing  up  the  precipitous 
ridge  and  an  hour  in  the  sunshine  during  the  hottest 
part  of  the  day  had  aroused  in  me  a lively  thirst, 
but  this  brown,  roasting,  rocky  mountain-side,  broken 
by  bare  granite  scraps  and  tors  to  which  clung  a few 
gnarled  pines  and  thorny  bushes,  looked  as  dry  as  a 
desert;  it  w'as  therefore  a great  and  unexpected  relief 
when  presently  we  came  to  a spring  of  clear,  cold 
water  gushing  from  the  cliff  2000  feet  above  the 
river.  It  was,  in  fact,  the  village  well,  and  here  we 


AMONG  THE  MARUS  163 

slaked  our  thirst  and  rested  awhile  before  going  on  to 
the  village  nearly  half-a-mile  away. 

A descent  of  some  hundreds  of  feet  down  a villainous 
granite  stairway,  partly  artificial  but  mostly  natural, 
brought  us  to  a small  platform  on  which  were  perched 
five  huts  standing  at  various  angles  to  each  other,  and 
here  we  halted  for  the  day,  though  it  was  but  two 
o’clock.  Two  hours  later,  almost  without  warning, 
a terrific  storm,  with  lightning  and  thunder,  swept 
across  the  valley,  driven  by  a gale  of  wind,  the  leaves 
being  whirled  aloft;  but  in  an  hour  it  was  quite  still 
again. 

I was  allotted  the  far  end  of  the  hut,  my  bed,  table 
and  chair  being  put  up  in  the  passage  by  a small  door 
which  admitted  light  and  air  and  opened  on  to  a 
narrow  platform  overlooking  the  pig  preserves  and  a 
fowl  run  and  a rank  growth  of  pumpkins,  tobacco 
and  buckwheat,  all  mixed  up  higgledy-piggledy. 

Next  to  me  was  the  “ maidens’  room,”  that 
convivial  hearth  set  apart  for  the  unmarried,  where 
the  wise  virgins  await  the  coming  of  the  bride- 
groom, with  stoups  of  liquor  and  flowers  and  pretty 
speeches. 

And  here,  with  no  light  but  the  red  embers  of 
the  fire,  and  the  moon  rising  over  the  black  mountains, 
when  all  the  household  is  asleep,  and  the  noises  of 
the  village  are  stilled  save  for  the  restless  movements 
of  the  tireless  cattle  and  the  occasional  grunt  of  a 
pig  under  the  hut,  the  youth  whispers  to  the  maid 
the  same  old  story — only  it  is  not  always  the  same 
youth. 

She  does  not  know,  and  hangs  her  head. 

Yes,  she  likes  him,  but  she  also  likes  the  youth 


1 64  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

from  Bum-pat,  in  the  far  valley,  who  sometimes  comes 
to  see  her. 

Last  time  he  brought  her  very  many  lan  ka  1 which 
he  had  made  himself;  and  he  was  handsome  and 
reputed  the  best  crossbow  shot  in  his  village ; but 
she  fears  he  is  also  making  love  to  Ayawng,  the 
duwcfs  2 beautiful  daughter,  and  is  jealous. 

Besides,  this  new  lover  of  hers,  Wakyetwa  by  name, 
has  more  mithan  than  his  rival,  and  he  has  a blood- 
feud  against  Shippawn,  by  whom  his  sister  has  borne 
a son,  though  he  now  refuses  to  marry  her,  preferring 
to  settle  in  kind ; he,  Wakyetwa,  wall  get  more  mithan 
for  this,  and  a gong  and  a dab. 

So  Wakyetwa  is  encouraged  to  come  again  the 
next  night,  and  before  he  leaves,  she  shyly  gives  him 
a crimson  flower  of  coxcomb  which  she  has  plucked 
from  her  taungya. 

It  is  communism.  One  often  hears  it  said  glibly 
enough,  and  not  without  astonishment  implied,  that 
the  system  of  free  love  in  vogue  amongst  unmarried 
Kachins — courting  carried  to  its  logical  conclusion  I 
should  call  it — guarantees  a happy  and  lasting  married 
life  later ; adultery,  in  fact,  is  practically  unknown 
amongst  the  Kachins,  it  is  said.  Maybe  this  is  advanced 
in  mitigation  rather  than  in  praise  of  the  system,  but 
there  is  always  a suspicion  that  the  unexpected  dis- 
covery of,  after  all,  some  good  in  a custom,  which 
at  first  sight  shocks  the  sensitive  mind,  may  cause  a 
reaction  entirely  in  its  favour;  an  apology,  in  fact, 
becomes  a defence. 

1 Lan  ka,  the  rattan  rings  worn  by  the  Kachin  tribes  round  the 
calf. 

2 Dwwa,  village  headman. 


AMONG  THE  MARTJS  165 

I merely  point  out  the  danger — let  it  not  be  thought 
for  a moment  that  I condemn  the  custom,  or  wish  to 
preach  a moral  homily ; though  its  general  application 
to  European  society  would  not,  I fear,  at  this  stage 
of  evolution,  achieve  a similar  end.  On  the  other 
hand,  a not  dissimilar  custom  has  long  been  prevalent 
in  the  back  blocks  of  mountainous  Europe. 

Of  course  it  all  depends  on  ideals. 

I dare  say  lots  of  people,  asking  no  questions,  really 
are  satisfied  with  fidelity  after  marriage  ; but,  on  the 
other  hand,  very  many  stipulate  for  purity  before, 
though  indifferent  as  to  what  happens  afterwards. 
Some  even  expect  purity  before  marriage  and  fidelity 
after  it. 

However,  they  are  not  Marus. 

The  people  of  this  village  brought  me  a long-tailed 
harvest  mouse  1 and  a baby  monkey,  for  which  I gave  a 
rupee  and  some  beads. 

The  monkey,  a pig-tailed  baboon,  u^as  the  oddest  little 
chap,  his  tiny  face  crumpled  like  a petal  in  bud,  giving 
him  an  appearance  of  wrinkled  age,  though  he  was 
unweaned  and  his  weakness,  his  childish  clutchings,  and 
his  piteous  cries  for  his  mother,  dead  or  wounded  in 
the  jungle,  betrayed  his  tender  age.  I kept  him  for 
two  days,  forcibly  feeding  him  on  well-chewed  sugar- 
cane or  corn,  copiously  emulsified  with  saliva,  and  then 
the  newly  lit  flame  of  his  little  life  flickered  and  went 
out  in  the  night. 

So  the  hot  afternoon  passed  away,  and  at  sunset  I 
noticed  flashes  of  lightning  far  away  in  the  south-west, 
where  clouds  had  gathered,  though  the  wind  was  still 
from  the  east.  The  weather  changes  very  suddenly  in 

1 Pachyura  sp. 


1 66  AMONG  THE  MARUS 

these  mountains,  however,  and  bright  moonlight  at  ten 
o’clock  was  replaced  by  heavy  rain  in  the  early  morn- 
ing, the  temperature  falling  to  6y'$°  F.  At  six  a.m.  the 
valley  was  filled  with  mist,  which  was  rapidly  dissipated 
by  the  sun  two  hours  later. 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  LONG  TRAIL 

DESCENDING  about  a thousand  feet  to  the 
Mekh  by  the  usual  precipitous  path,  now 
slippery  with  mud,  we  halted  for  a bathe,  the 
sun  being  already  strong.  A couple  of  twists  in  the  river, 
with  big  noisy  rapids  above  and  below,  caused  almost 
slack  water  here  under  the  right  bank,  and  casting  off 
their  one  garment  apiece,  most  of  my  men  plunged  into 
the  water. 

The  Marus  are  fond  of  swimming,  though  I saw 
no  experts,  a somewhat  feeble  breast  stroke  being  the 
only  mode  of  propulsion.  Consequently  no  bold  spirit 
came  forward  to  sw'im  the  river,  here  some  thirty  or 
forty  yards  in  breadth,  crossing  the  swift  current, 
which,  under  the  opposite  bank,  hastened  faster  and 
faster  towards  the  rapids,  to  be  finally  sucked  frothing 
and  protesting  between  big  boulders.  Neither  have 
they  any  idea  of  diving,  my  efforts  in  that  direction, 
from  the  top  of  a granite  boulder,  causing  astonishment 
almost  to  the  point  of  attempted  emulation. 

For  half-an-hour  the  air  was  filled  with  the  sounds 
of  laughter  and  splashing,  the  Marus  ducking  each 
other  like  schoolboys,  and  chasing  over  the  hot  sand, 
or  sunning  themselves  on  the  rocks. 

Our  march  now  led  us  up  the  river  bed,  clambering 
over  immense  boulders  or  leaping  from  one  to  the  other, 
the  river  a tumultuous  torrent  of  battered,  seething 
167 


1 68  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

water,  till  presently  we  reached  a cane  suspension 
bridge.  Here  we  met  two  Lisus  from  the  hills,  one  of 
whom  carried  a small  pig  in  a basket. 

The  Mams  live  in  the  valley  of  the  ’Nmai  hka  and 
in  the  lower  parts  of  the  tributary  valleys,  particularly 
those  of  the  Laking  hka,  Mekh  rame  and  Namre  rame; 
the  Lisus  occupy  the  hills  and  the  upper  valleys  between 
the  ’Nmai  hka  and  the  Salween  valley,  as  well  as  the 
Salween  valley  itself,  from  where  they  extend  into  the 
Chinese  provinces  of  Yun-nan  and  Ssu-ch‘uan,  though 
their  distribution  is  discontinuous.  They  are  not  found 
west  of  the  ’Nmai  kha  or  north  of  lat.  28°. 

Their  villages  are  on  an  average  perhaps  2000  feet 
above  those  of  the  Marus,  and  as  their  crops  ripen  a 
month  or  two  later,  they  come  down  into  the  warmer 
valleys  about  this  time  for  food,  bringing  potatoes,  salt, 
pigs,  cows  and  iron  pots  in  exchange.  Most  of  these 
things  they  themselves  have  obtained  from  the  Chinese, 
who  rarely  penetrate  into  this  part  of  the  country. 
From  these  men  I bought  a few  new  potatoes  the  size 
of  small  marbles. 

Presently  we  came  upon  a remarkable  sight. 

Some  carnivorous  animal  had  left  its  droppings  in 
a rock  pool  amongst  the  boulders,  and  the  poisoned 
water  had  tainted  the  atmosphere  for  yards  around 
with  its  rank  acridness.  From  all  directions  this 
reeking  cesspool  had  attracted  the  most  gorgeous 
butterflies  imaginable,  and  they  had  come  in  their 
dozens.  The  pool  was  a quivering  mass  of  brilliant 
insects,  and  still  others  hovered  to  and  fro  over  the 
unsavoury  meal,  awaiting  their  turn  to  alight;  from 
time  to  time  a butterfly,  impatient  of  waiting,  would 
push  itself  amongst  the  already  packed  multitude. 


Photo  by]  P.  M.  R.  Leonard , Esq. 

Young  Xungs. 

The  boy  on  the  right  holds  a four-foot  span  cross-bow.  The  other  two  have  each 
their  ddh,  or  short  knife.  They  are  not  blessed  with  abundant  clothing. 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  169 

causing  a flutter  of  painted  wings  as  the  group  re- 
arranged itself  like  the  colours  in  a kaleidoscope.  Is 
it  not  curious  that  such  beautiful,  delicate,  and  out- 
wardly dainty  creatures  should  be  attracted  by  such 
loathsomeness  ? It  is  apt  to  start  a cynical  train  of 
thought  on  the  corruption  which  underlies  all  material 
beauty  and  the  empty  vanities  of  life. 

But  it  was  while  watching,  fascinated,  these  heaven- 
born  insects  that  for  the  first  time  I realised  the  full 
magic  beauty  of  Mendelssohn’s  Papillon , which  ran  in 
my  head  even  as  I watched  the  oscillating  wings  at  the 
butterfly  meet. 

Amongst  them  were  many  swallow-tails  of  the 
genus  Dalchina,  with  schooner  wings  banded  with 
pale  green.  When  the  insect  settles  the  wings  are 
folded  and  in  profile  resemble  the  sails  of  a 
schooner. 

Butterflies,  it  may  be  noticed,  when  they  alight 
do  not  all  behave  similarly;  just  as  their  flights  differ, 
this  one  darting  in  rapid  zigzags  high  up  in  the  air, 
that  one  flapping  sedately  along  on  broad  wings,  a 
third  swooping  swiftly  from  flower  to  flower,  so  too 
some  close  their  wings  the  moment  they  settle,  while 
others  spread  them. 

Amongst  the  former  the  most  famous  is  no  doubt 
the  leaf-butterfly,1  of  which  I saw  one  lovely  specimen 
in  the  ’Nmai  valley.  Settled  on  a twig,  it  was  impossible 
without  close  scrutiny  to  distinguish  this  insect  from 
an  asymmetrical  leaf,  like  that  of  the  lime-tree,  which 
the  folded  wings  resembled  in  shape,  markings  being 
readily  mistaken  for  venation,  the  head  tucked  away, 
the  body  representing  the  stalk. 

1 Kallima  sp. 


170  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

In  spite  of  its  strong  flight  and  protective  mimicry, 
this  butterfly  is  far  from  common  here ; at  least  it  is 
rarely  seen. 

Another  butterfly 1 which  at  once  folds  up  its  wings 
on  alighting  is  one  the  under  side  of  whose  wings 
are  veined  and  mottled  like  certain  kinds  of  rock, 
as,  for  instance,  limestone  with  quartz  veins,  or  schist 
(species  of  Cyrestis). 

The  duller  butterflies  of  the  forest,  however,  the 
sombre  but  none  the  less  pretty  browns  and  greys, 
generally  alight  with  outspread  wings,  though  some 
open  and  close  them  alternately,  as  though  stretching 
themselves. 

Most  lovely  of  all  are  the  swallow-tails,  of  u'hich 
there  are  a considerable  variety  in  the  hot,  sunny 
valleys.  These,  as  they  probe  the  flowers  for  honey, 
scarcely  settle,  or  if  they  do,  touch  with  so  light  a 
caress  the  damask  petals  that  they  seem  poised  on 
air ; and  as  they  hover  over,  or  tread  with  fairy 
pressure  the  bell-like  convolvulus  and  trumpet  flowers, 
their  wings  quiver  and  tremble  like  aspen  leaves 
shivering  in  a zephyr  breeze,  never  still  for  a moment. 
One  of  the  most  beautiful  of  these  was  a species  of 
Leptocircus,  with  gauzy  wings  trailing  out  behind  like 
fluttering  ribands.  How  full  of  life  they  look,  what 
restless  energy  in  those  slender  bodies  borne  aloft  on 
gorgeous  wings ! and  how  exquisitely  the  first  move- 
ment of  Papillon  represents  to  our  ears  the  quiver- 
ing, restless  vitality  here  seen  with  the  eyes!  This 
music  will  ever  carry  me  back  to  the  Burmese  hinter- 
land, where  I shall  see  again  that  rancid  pool  with 
its  burden  of  butterflies  by  the  thundering  Mekli ! 

1 Cyrestis  sp. 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  171 

On  the  wet  rocks  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  high 
river  bank  pink  and  white  begonias  with  mottled, 
velvety  leaves  were  plentiful.  Never  was  such  a 
country  for  begonias ! Indeed  the  shy  vegetation 
hidden  away  in  the  forests  on  these  damp  cliffs, 
between  5000  and  8000  feet  elevation,  was  remarkable 
for  the  beauty  of  its  flowers  and  foliage,  amongst 
which  begonias,  species  of  Impatiens  and  Chirita, 
maiden-hair  ferns,  Colocasia  and  Selaginella  are  the 
most  noticeable. 

One  does  not  travel  even  over  the  comparatively 
level  river  beds  in  this  country  for  long.  We  had 
descended  1000  feet  from  the  last  village,  and 
we  now  had  to  climb  2000  feet  to  the  next  one. 
Ascents  and  descents,  which  in  some  places  include 
climbing  whereby  one  holds  on  to  convenient  rocks 
and  tree  roots,  sometimes  even  to  rattan  canes  in- 
securely fastened  from  one  tree  to  another,  in  order 
to  pull  oneself  up,  are  at  the  best  by  scarcely  zigzag 
paths  as  steep  as  the  pitch  of  a house  roof.  Every 
obstacle  is  surmounted  by  frontal  attack;  there  are 
no  carefully  sought  out  alignments  nor  elaborately 
graded  approaches;  one  cannot  follow  with  the  eye 
the  road  winding  in  and  out  round  the  gullies  as  one 
does  the  mule-roads  in  the  hill  tracts  of  Upper  Burma. 

However,  as  you  plod  wearily  up,  the  porters  toiling 
along  behind,  halting  for  breath  at  frequent  intervals, 
you  feel  that  at  every  step  you  are  getting  up — 
mountain  ranges  come  rapidly  into  view  again,  far- 
away peaks  poke  up  their  heads  beyond,  the  valley 
grows  blue  in  the  distance.  One  performs  prodigies 
of  accumulated  climbing  in  a day,  though  you  may 
finish  at  a lower  altitude  than  that  at  which  you 


1 72  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

started,  and  anyhow  the  net  result  may  be  only  a few 
miles  gained. 

Nor  is  the  path  always  safe,  being  indeed  no 
broader  when  cut  out  of  the  cliff  side  or  spanning 
a ravine  than  when  traversing  a level  stretch  of 
jungle. 

Two  or  three  logs  of  questionable  strength,  carefully 
concealed  by  earth,  served  as  a footpath  round  an 
awkward  corner  in  one  place,  and  stepping  confidently 
on  the  edge,  it  crumbled  away  without  warning, 
precipitating  me  over  the  khud.  Hence  the  phrase 
“ As  easy  as  falling  off  a log,”  no  doubt  first  said  in 
a country  where  logs  are  used  as  inconsequently  as 
they  are  here.  Luckily  as  I fell  I was  able  to  clutch 
the  timber  with  both  hands,  and  being  further  some- 
what violently  arrested  in  my  projected  course  by  a 
tree  trunk  below,  I escaped  with  nothing  more  serious 
than  a bruised  leg  and  a severe  shaking,  being  rescued 
from  my  perilous  position,  suspended  over  the  pre- 
cipice, and  hauled  up  on  to  the  path  again  by  the 
porters  behind. 

Maru  had  followed  us  on  foot  ever  since  we  left 
Laking,  though  he  still  had  to  be  carried  whenever 
we  encountered  a precipice  or  crossed  a torrent. 
Now  that  he  had  learnt  to  wag  his  tail  when  pleased, 
hang  his  head  when  depressed  by  a guilty  conscience, 
grovel  on  his  belly  when  I called  him  to  task,  skip 
about  excitedly  at  meal-time  and  give  way  to  other 
expressions  of  canine  emotion,  all  of  which  seem  to 
have  come  naturally  to  him  by  degrees,  since  his 
mother  was  far  away  in  the  fort  at  Hpimaw,  he  was 
a delightful  if  silent  companion.  He  made  friends 
with  the  baby  monkey  at  once,  though  I am  not  sure 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  173 

that  the  trust  was  reciprocated,  or  the  affection 
returned. 

The  monkey,  of  course,  was  carried  in  a basket,  as 
Maru  had  previously  been.  He  was  difficult  to  feed, 
because  he  would  insist  that  my  finger  was  a nipple, 
at  which  he  sucked  and  chewed  with  his  tiny  milk- 
teeth  all  to  no  purpose,  while  my  own  mouth  grew 
as  dry  as  lava  masticating  and  predigesting  his  meal 
of  rice  or  sugar-cane  to  pulp  before  pushing  the 
salivary  bolus  into  his  little  red  mouth.  The  ex- 
pression on  his  crumpled  face,  which  was  not  dissimilar 
to  that  of  a new-born  baby,  as  he  looked  at  me  with 
large,  puzzled  eyes,  saying  in  eloquent  silence,  “ Surely 
you  are  not  my  mother  ! ” was  sad,  as  though  antici- 
pating the  end. 

That  night  was  spent  at  a village  of  six  or  eight 
huts  hemmed  in  between  gigantic  forested  spurs,  and 
backed  by  the  ridge  above,  which  towered  up  for 
two  or  three  thousand  feet.  When  I turned  in  the 
moonlight  flooding  the  dim  Mekli  valley  immediately 
below  and  silvering  the  trees  promised  fine  weather 
for  the  morrow. 

Well  protected  by  vegetation  on  every  hand,  the 
minimum  fell  only  to  67*8°  F.,  though  we  were  quite 
4000  feet  above  sea-level. 

Next  day,  8th  September,  we  climbed  steeply  for 
three  hours,  pushing  our  way  through  thickets  and 
brushing  aside  the  long,  dewy  grass  which  concealed 
the  path,  here  bordered  by  masses  of  purple-flowered 
Torenia.1 

At  last,  passing  through  a belt  of  forest  trees,  we 
reached  the  open,  wind-swept  summit,  forming  the 

1 7 . peduncularis . 


i74  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

northern  boundary  of  the  Mekh  basin,  where  there 
were  no  trees,  but  only  dense  thickets  of  rhododendron 
and  other  shrubs.  As  usual,  the  rock  was  granite. 

In  spite  of  a cloudy  sky,  we  had  a fine  view  of  the 
Salween  divide  away  to  the  E.N.E.,  from  the  crest 
of  which  this  convulsion  of  crumpled  mountains  and 
twisted  valleys  stretches  westwards  to  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
while  eastwards,  in  amazing  contrast,  bold  spurs  dip 
straight  down  into  the  deep  Salween  which  beats 
against  their  feet. 

Southwards  we  could  see  far  down  the  ’Nmai  valley, 
but  here  and  there  the  mountains  were  blotted  out  in 
storm,  and  the  rumble  of  thunder  in  the  north  sounded 
ominous. 

A long  and  steep  descent  through  jungle  brought 
us  at  length  to  a little  cultivation,  and  traversing  some 
taungya  where  millet  and  buckwheat  struggled  man- 
fully with  the  weeds,  we  reached  a village  of  five 
huts,  and  halted  for  a meal  to  let  a storm  go  past. 
On  the  opposite  slope,  separated  from  us  by  a valley 
across  which  a bird  would  have  winged  its  way  in 
a few  minutes,  stood  a second  larger  village.  This 
we  reached  at  five  o’clock,  by  the  more  prosaic  method 
of  walking  down  one  side  and  up  the  other. 

Here  the  porters  very  naturally  wished  to  halt, 
saying  that  we  could  not  reach  the  next  village  before 
dark ; but  remembering  how  comparatively  frequent 
villages  had  been  between  the  Laking  and  the  Mekh, 
and  the  indisposition  of  the  Marus  to  exert  themselves 
unnecessarily,  I scouted  the  suggestion  and  persuaded 
them  to  go  on  to  the  next  village.  I felt  confident 
we  could  reach  it  by  nightfall,  with  an  effort. 

I was  indeed  becoming  uneasy  at  the  slow  progress 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  175 

we  were  making,  being  already  several  days  late  on 
the  scheduled  programme  worked  out  before  starting ; 
consequently  I resolved  to  speed  up  our  rate  of  march- 
ing at  every  possible  opportunity. 

However,  I had  better  have  been  guided  by  those 
who  knew  something  of  the  country  and  the  ways 
of  its  inhabitants.  The  two  attempts  I made  both 
failed  dismally  in  their  object,  and  after  that  I gave 
it  up  in  disgust,  though  no  doubt  they  sufficed  to 
keep  clearly  before  the  minds  of  our  party  the  grave 
fact  that  no  unnecessary  delay  could  be  tolerated. 

True,  each  time  I cajoled  the  men  into  speeding 
up  we  covered  more  than  the  usual  march  the  first 
day ; but  it  only  meant  that  we  had  less  than  the 
usual  march  to  do  the  next  day,  and  arrived  exactly 
where  we  would  have  arrived  had  there  been  no 
speeding  up.  No  amount  of  cajolery  would  make 

the  men  do  three  marches  in  two  days,  and  in  fact 

it  was  impossible,  so  long  as  we  had  to  change  porters 
at  all ; for  if  we  arrived  at  a village  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  and  the  men  dumped  down  their  loads 
and  refused  to  go  on,  there  we  had  to  stop  till  next 
morning. 

There  was  no  one  at  home  in  the  village  to  take 

up  the  loads,  only  a few  old  women  weaving  cloth, 

decrepit  men  smoking  and  tiny  children  playing  in 
the  hearth ; the  rest  of  the  inhabitants  were  up  the 
mountain  minding  their  crops,  or  hunting  in  the  jungle, 
and  would  not  appear  till  dusk.  A very  jolly  open- 
air  life ! 

There  were  points  about  the  speeding-up  system — 
for  instance,  it  was  pleasant  to  have  a whole  afternoon’s 
rest  sometimes ; it  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  look 


176  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

after  my  plant  collection  and  see  something  of  Maru 
village  life.  But  it  never  shortened  by  a single  hour 
the  journey  to  Fort  Hertz. 

North  of  the  Mekh  villages  are  few  and  far 
between.  The  bed  of  the  ’Nmai  hka  becomes  more 
and  more  confined,  and  though  spurs  are  more  numerous 
between  the  Mekh  and  the  Ahkyang  than  they  are 
between  the  Laking  and  the  Mekh,  they  are  also 
much  steeper,  much  more  rocky,  and  hence  much  more 
difficult  to  cultivate.  Flat  shoulders  too,  on  which 
alone  villages  can  be  built,  seldom  break  the  curve 
of  a granite  spur  as  it  sweeps  down  from  the  moun- 
tains above  the  river,  separating  one  gully  from  the 
next.  We  toiled  over  an  endless  succession  of  these 
huge  spurs ; no  sooner  had  we  surmounted  one,  climb- 
ing from  the  stream  1500  or  2000  feet,  in  jungle, 
over  cliffs,  along  ledges,  through  grass  which  buried 
us,  than  we  had  to  begin  the  descent  to  the  next 
torrent,  and  were  very  glad  to  halt  and  bathe  when 
we  got  there. 

Though  the  sky  was  still  clear  behind  us  in  the 
south,  it  had  clouded  over  from  the  east,  so  that 
there  was  no  prospect  of  moonlight  to  assist  us. 

At  dusk  we  stood  on  the  brink  of  a deep  chasm, 
and  before  the  rearguard  had  reached  the  summit  of 
the  next  spur,  after  a weary  climb,  it  was  quite  dark. 
However,  we  could  hear  dogs  barking,  and  occasionally 
through  the  trees  see  lights  moving  in  the  village 
ahead,  which  the  advance  guard  had  evidently  reached, 
so  that,  as  the  crow,  or  even  the  careless  butterfly, 
more  typical  of  this  country,  flies,  it  could  not  be  far 
away. 

We  ourselves,  unfortunately,  being  neither  crows 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  177 

nor  careless  butterflies,  had  to  walk,  and  found  the 
distance  correspondingly  more  formidable. 

As  for  the  porters  and  T‘ung-ch‘ien,  they  hardly 
dared  move  for  fear  of  falling,  but  an  occasional  fall 
, seemed  to  me  preferable  to  a night  spent  on  the 
mountain-side,  especially  as  rain  threatened,  so  I pushed 
warily  ahead.  Though  it  was  impossible  to  see  the 
path,  pale  flashes  of  lightning  revealed  from  time 
to  time  the  contours  of  the  land,  from  which  the 
probable  direction  of  the  winding  path,  here  buried  in 
long  grass,  there  concealed  amongst  rocks,  might  be 
gauged. 

In  this  manner  I groped  my  way  along,  carrying 
Maru,  for  half-a-mile,  shouting  at  intervals  as  a light 
waxed  and  waned  somewhere  ahead,  till  suddenly, 
without  any  preliminary  warning,  I rolled  six  feet 
down  the  kbud , losing  the  path  altogether,  and  decided 
to  stay  where  I was  lest  worse  befell. 

As  I sat  disconsolately  spitting  pebbles  out  of  my 
mouth  and  combing  the  grit  out  of  my  hair  there 
at  last  appeared  round  the  corner  a man  carrying 
in  his  hand  a flaring  torch,  which  revealed  the  fact 
that  I was  sitting  on  the  edge  of  a cliff,  descended 
by  the  aid  of  a notched  log ; I could  hardly  have 
continued  the  abrupt  descent  beyond  this  point  without 
breaking  some  arms  and  legs  ! 

The  new-comer,  after  holding  his  torch  aloft  to 
light  me  down  the  cliff  and  indicate  the  path  ahead, 
now  went  back  to  where  the  porters  had  resigned, 
while  I approached  another  light.  Presently  I reached 
not  indeed  the  village,  but  a small  mat  hut  on  the 
slope  above  us,  where  the  maize  is  stacked  when 
ripe  and  people  pass  the  night  watching  the  crops 


M 


178  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

when  the  monkeys  come  down  to  claim  their 
share. 

Inside  the  hut,  which  was  small  and  draughty, 
I found  several  of  the  porters  with  my  bedding,  but 
no  food.  The  men  had  lit  a fire  and  we  soon  made 
ourselves  cosy  on  the  hard  ground,  roasting  some 
maize  cobs  in  the  embers  for  supper,  there  being 
eleven  of  us  altogether  when  the  laggards  arrived 
just  as  it  began  to  rain  heavily;  so  several  must 
have  reached  the  village. 

During  the  night  it  rained  almost  continuously, 
and  next  morning  the  monkey  was  dead ; perhaps 
this  was  due  to  cold,  the  temperature  falling  to 
65*9°  F. ; in  fact  it  was  the  chill,  moist  air  filtering 
through  the  flimsy  walls  which  woke  me  before  six 
in  the  dawn  dusk. 

Having  nothing  to  eat,  wre  wasted  no  time  in  packing 
and  setting  out  for  the  village,  reached  it  in  half-an- 
hour,  where  the  rest  of  our  party  met  us  with  a 
suspicion  of  feigned  surprise  and  a fleeting  smile  of 
superiority  grossly  irritating. 

Near  the  village  I was  surprised  to  find  the  path 
cleared  and  levelled,  the  grass  cut,  the  banks  trimmed, 
first  aid  rendered  to  the  water  supply,  and  other 
signs  of  Hodge ; a Maru  headman  who  keeps  even 
two  hundred  yards  of  inter-village  track  in  repair 
on  the  upper  ’Nmai  hka  is  a treasure  indeed,  and 
deserves  to  be  encouraged  by  Government.  In  the 
rainy  season  these  inter-village  tracks  are  hardly  used 
at  all,  and  soon  become  almost  obliterated  by  the 
vegetation. 

We  now  had  breakfast  in  the  house  of  the  headman, 
a tall,  robust,  aristocratic-looking  Maru  dressed  like 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  179 

a Burman,  with  in-gyi  and  silk  bkoung-boung  in  addition 
to  his  lone-gyi\  in  fact  one  might  have  taken  him  for 
a Burman  in  any 'other  setting. 

After  collecting  a fresh  lot  of  porters  we  started 
off  again,  the  weather  being  cool  and  cloudy ; now 
we  looked  down  on  a deep  valley  full  of  mist  diffusing 
itself  raggedly  heavenwards  as  it  tried  to  rise  into  the 
already  saturated  air  above. 

As  previously  stated,  we  gained  nothing  by  our 
forced  march  except  an  afternoon’s  respite  from  toil 
now ; we  only  reached  the  next  village  half-a-day 
earlier,  and  had  to  stop  there. 

The  Marus,  unlike  the  Yawyins,  do  not  care  to 
travel  far  from  their  homes,  and  generally  object 
to  going  beyond  the  next  village. 

Asked  for  information  about  the  road  three  or 
four  marches  ahead,  they  can  tell  you  nothing  except 
in  the  vaguest  terms,  so  that  when  the  villages  are 
close  together  progress  is  necessarily  slow,  porters 
being  changed  at  every  village  and,  for  the  reasons 
given  above,  a change  being  impossible  except  in  the 
early  morning. 

Yet  every  morning  you  may  see  the  young  men 
of  the  village  saunter  out  with  dah , crossbow  and 
arrow-bag  of  black  bear  skin  to  hunt  in  the  jungle 
and  pass  the  day  smoking,  chewing  pan  and  talking 
idly;  while  the  women  and  children  do  the  work 
in  the  fields  and  in  the  house,  making  food  and 
clothes  for  all. 

I was  very  lucky  to  have  got  ten  porters,  including 
five  Marus,  to  go  with  me  the  whole  way  to  Fort 
Hertz,  otherwise  I should  never  have  got  there 
without  jettisoning  half  my  loads,  since  these  villages 


180  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

north  of  Mekh  could  not  have  furnished  the  requisite 
number  of  porters. 

This  prejudice  against  travelling  far  from  their 
homes  seems  to  be  characteristic  of  people  whose 
lives  are  spent  in  the  jungle,  whose  vision  is  cir- 
cumscribed by  impenetrable  vegetation  in  the  midst 
of  which  lurk  all  those  evil  spirits,  here  called  nats , 
bred  of  an  imagination  unfettered  by  knowledge. 

The  mountain  peoples,  the  men  who  reach  the 
passes  and  meadows  above  the  forest,  in  contrast 
to  these  others,  travel  far  and  wide,  fearing  nothing. 
They  are  the  people  who  emigrate,  and  emigrating, 
come  into  contact  with  new  civilisations ; they  are  the 
people  who  eventually  shoulder  their  way  into  the  fair 
places  of  the  earth. 

Such  are  the  Yawyins.  Such  too  are  the  peoples 
of  the  wide,  windy  plateaux  of  Tibet,  great  travellers 
all,  nomads  some.  Their  horizon  is  bounded  only  by 
the  limits  of  human  vision,  and  a vast  curiosity  assails 
them  as  they  stand  beneath  the  blue  dome  of  heaven 
and  look  across  the  mountains;  nothing  stands  be- 
tween them  and  far  lands  but  these  same  mountains 
that  they  know  so  well — why  then  should  they  not 
go  to  those  dim  distances,  strange  and  full  of  unknown 
things,  but  not  mysterious,  not  exciting  unbridled 
imagination ! 

So  even  when  they  desert  the  wide,  windy  pastures 
and  take  to  agriculture  in  the  warm  valleys,  they 
lose  not  their  love  of  nomadic  life,  but  become  great 
traders,  venturing  far  afield  in  search  of  what  they 
need  in  their  newly  settled  homes. 

And  such,  too,  are  the  children  of  the  desert,  on 
whom  the  stars  twinkle  at  night  with  an  unearthly 


THE  LONG  TRAIL  181 

brilliance,  and  the  rising  and  setting  sun  slants  its 
rays  over  vast,  bare  spaces. 

A steep  ascent  now  brought  us  out  on  to  a narrow 
granite  ridge  bare  of  trees,  from  which  we  had  a fine 
view  down  the  ’Nmai  valley,  the  river  itself  being 
visible  far  below. 

The  ridge  fell  away  to  the  next  stream  in  a pre- 
cipitous spur  running  parallel  to  the  ’Nmai  hka,  and 
we  found  ourselves  walking  along  a knife-edge,  the 
summit  of  which  was  formed  by  a jumble  of  granite 
tors;  so  we  turned  back  into  the  mountains  to  avoid 
it,  immediately  descending  the  east  flank  of  the  spur 
by  a steep,  zigzag  path,  sticky  with  red  clay  and 
very  slippery. 

No  sooner  were  we  on  the  inner  face  of  the  spur, 
behind  the  main  river,  than  we  plunged  into  thick 
jungle  again,  the  high,  precipitous  banks  loaded  with 
the  usual  maiden-hair  ferns,  yellow  and  blue  flowered 
Chirita,  Selaginella  and  brilliant  Impatiens. 

Just  before  crossing  the  spur  I noticed  a tumultuous 
movement  of  the  clouds,  a fantastically  fringed  black 
plume  sailing  over  from  the  west  and,  as  soon  as  it 
reached  the  river,  sending  forth  vivid  tongues  of 
lightning. 

This  evil-looking  cloud  banner  now  performed  some 
extraordinary  gyrations  with  the  lower  clouds  which 
already  brooded  over  the  valley,  a sort  of  cloud-spout  or 
water-spout,  anyhow  a funnel-shaped  object  being  formed 
in  mid-air  by  the  rubbing  of  opposing  air  currents ; and 
next  minute  to  the  roar  of  thunder  and  a blast  of  air 
out  of  the  sky  as  it  seemed  a deluge  of  rain  fell, 
the  storm  lasting  two  hours. 

Consequently  our  descent  down  the  clay  path  was 


1 82  THE  LONG  TRAIL 

more  hasty  than  dignified,  and  by  the  time  we  had 
crossed  the  torrent  and  climbed  the  opposite  slope 
to  a village  perched  a few  hundred  feet  above  we 
were  all  drenched  to  the  skin  and  caked  with  mud. 

However,  in  the  afternoon  every  vestige  of  cloud 
disappeared,  the  sun  shone  out,  and  the  temperature 
went  up  with  a bound,  reaching  83*1°  F.  in  the 
shade. 

I spent  the  afternoon  skinning  the  dead  monkey 
and  looking  over  my  accumulating  collection  of  plants, 
not  sorry  for  a rest. 

I also  bought  another  pig-tailed  baboon  from  the 
villagers,  in  exchange  for  some  beads.  He  was  older 
than  the  last  one,  and  only  took  to  me  very  gradually 
— indeed  it  was  several  days  before  he  could  bear  to 
look  at  me  without  facially  expressing  his  displeasure, 
though  he  was  soon  smiling  at  the  natives. 

This  village  was  like  many  others — half-a-dozen 
rather  poor  huts  scattered  on  the  hill-side  amongst 
patches  of  cultivation  and  little  fenced-in  gardens  of 
Capsicum,  pumpkins,  yams,  and  tobacco. 


CHAPTER  XII 


AMONG  THE  LISUS 


EPT EMBER  io th. — Minimum  temperature 


65*2°  F.  after  a good  deal  of  rain  in  the  small  hours. 


that  the  path  had  been  washed  away  and  it  was 
necessary  for  men  with  dabs  to  precede  us  and  effect 
what  repairs  they  could ; vegetation  had  to  be  cleared, 
saplings  cut,  bridges  thrown  across  gullies  and  brackets 
built  round  cliffs  before  we  could  get  out  of  the 
cul-de-sac  we  had  entered  the  previous  day. 

It  was  one  of  the  most  difficult  marches  wre  had 
yet  experienced.  Numerous  notched  logs  and  rickety 
bamboo  ladders  had  to  be  negotiated,  leeches  worried 
us,  and,  as  the  day  was  hot,  I was  thankful  when 
at  four  o’clock  we  reached  a small  village  high 
above  the  river,  amongst  patches  of  cotton  and 
taungya  of  ripening  maize.  Here  we  halted  for  the 
night. 

This  place  commanded  a good  view  of  the  ’Nmai 
hka  to  the  north,  which  was  the  more  welcome  as, 
in  spite  of  our  continuous  proximity  to  it,  we  rarely 
caught  even  a glimpse  of  this  elusive  river.  At  no 
time  during  our  march  north  did  we  descend  to  its 
banks  till  we  finally  crossed  it  on  13th  September, 
though  in  crossing  both  the  Mekh  and  the  Ahkyang 
we  were  only  a little  way  above  the  junction  of  those 
rivers  with  it. 


The  start  was  delayed  owing  to  the  fact 


183 


184  among  the  lisus 

At  nightfall  a white  mist  softly  filled  the  valley 
and  wrapped  everything  below  in  slumber;  only  our 
heads  were  amongst  the  brilliant  stars. 

September  1 1 th. — Minimum  63*8°  F.  The  valley  was 
still  full  of  cloud  at  six  o’clock,  but  there  was  blue 
sky  overhead.  Heavy  dew  gave  an  autumnal  bite 
to  the  air,  but  as  soon  as  the  sun  was  up  the  mists 
disappeared  and  another  fine  day  followed,  the  sweat 
bubbling  out  of  us  as  we  climbed  up  and  down,  rarely 
finding  shelter  from  the  sun’s  rays. 

At  the  start  we  had  a very  deep  gully  to  cross, 
the  opposite  ascent  being  exceptionally  difficult.  Then 
followed  the  long  descent  to  the  Namre  rame,  which 
valley  may  be  considered,  for  this  part  of  the  world, 
thickly  populated. 

After  crossing  the  stream  by  a cane  suspension 
bridge  we  again  ascended  steeply,  and  passed  through 
two  small  villages  before  halting  at  a larger  one 
near  the  summit  of  the  spur.  Just  across  the  valley, 
which  was  open,  with  cultivated  slopes,  on  the  left 
bank  of  the  stream,  two  more  villages  were  visible, 
and  there  were  others  higher  up  the  valley  out  of 
view. 

Five  villages  in  view  at  once,  say  forty  or  fifty 
huts  with  perhaps  four  or  five  hundred  people ! We 
had  seen  nothing  like  it  since  leaving  the  Mekh ! 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Namre  rame  we  found 
between  thirty  and  forty  villagers,  men,  women  and 
children,  engaged  in  a fish  drive.  This  operation 
consists  in  damming  and  diverting  the  torrent  and 
securing  any  fish  unlucky  enough  to  be  left  behind 
in  the  pools  and  channels  below,  which  are  gradually 
half  drained. 


Photos  by]  [A.  W.  Porter , Esq. 

“ Black  ” Lisus. 

A “ black  ” Lisu  of  the  Ahkyans.  Note  the  cotton  “ gown,”  A “ black  I isu  girl  of  the  Ahkyang.  She  is  wearing  a Chinese 

all  in  one  piece,  and  the  dak  under  the  left  arm.  jacket  over  her  gown  and  a head-dress  of  beads. 


AMONG  THE  LISUS  185 

Here,  just  above  its  junction  with  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
the  Namre  rame  is  a boisterous  torrent,  tearing 
amongst  huge  blocks  of  granite.  At  one  point, 
where  the  water  poured  over  a boulder  into  a deep 
pool,  a dam  had  been  built  across  the  stream  and 
the  water  confined  to  a single  lateral  channel,  the 
crevices  through  which  it  might  find  its  way  beneath 
and  between  the  boulders  having  been  plugged  with 
banana  stems  and  a pulp  made  from  the  sheaths  of 
sago  palm  leaves. 

Thus  for  fifty  yards  or  so  down-stream  there  were 
only  a few  trickles  and  quiet  pools  of  water  lost 
amongst  a wilderness  of  enormous  boulders,  glistening 
white  in  the  sunshine. 

It  w'as  difficult  work  scrambling  about  here  in  the 
torrent  bed  where  the  tumbling  water  had  worn 
deep  chasms  and  polished  the  sheer-sided  boulders. 

Sitting  or  lying  full  length  on  these  slabs,  or 
lowering  each  other  down  into  the  pools,  the  Marus 
swept  the  hushed  waters  with  conical  bamboo  sieves 
on  poles,  or  turned  over  stones  and  grabbed,  putting 
any  fish  they  caught  in  baskets.  I saw  several  taken, 
but  the  biggest  was  not  more  than  seven  or  eight 
inches  long,  though  every  capture  was  hailed  with  a 
universal  shout  of  applause. 

The  higher  we  travelled  up  the  ’Nmai  hka  the 
uglier  became  the  Marus. 

The  small  children  go  about  naked,  and  are  always 
filthy.  They  have  the  usual  pot-bellies  and  thin  flanks 
of  Eastern  children,  making  them  look  as  though  they 
were  in  a perpetual  state  of  unstable  equilibrium,  and 
trying  to  correct  it  by  running  faster  than  they  were 
meant  to. 


1 86  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

September  \2tb. — Minimum  64*4°  F.  The  sky  at 
daybreak  was  perfectly  clear  and  we  got  off  soon  after 
nine,  climbing  steeply  to  the  summit  of  the  spur  which 
divides  the  Namre  rame  from  the  ’Nmai  hka,  and 
following  its  broken  crest  some  distance  up  the  valley; 
below  us,  on  the  Namre  rame  side,  were  scattered 
villages  and  cultivated  slopes,  but  luckily  (for  as  usual 
it  was  very  hot  in  the  sun)  the  crest  of  the  ridge  was 
more  or  less  covered  with  forest. 

On  beginning  to  descend  again  we  presently  found 
ourselves,  to  my  surprise,  on  quite  a good  path — not 
well  graded,  of  course,  for  in  several  places  it  descended 
by  abrupt  steps  down  which  one  lightly  leapt,  but 
fairly  broad,  and  cleared  of  undergrowth ; evidently 
it  had  only  recently  been  repaired. 

This  path  took  us  down  quite  2000  feet  through 
forests  in  which  I noticed  two  species  of  tree  fern, 
and  a species  of  oak  with  enormous  acorns  in  squat 
cups,  to  a torrent  where  we  halted  for  our  usual  daily 
bathe.  In  diving  into  a shallow  pool  here  I had  the 
misfortune  to  hit  the  bottom  rather  hard,  cutting  my 
head  and  chest  on  the  sharp  rocks. 

A short  climb  up  the  opposite  spur  soon  brought  us 
to  a village  insecurely  perched  in  an  exposed  position 
on  the  hill-side,  where  some  slabs  of  slaty  rock  stood 
on  edge  like  low  walls;  one  hut  was  built  close  to 
the  brink  of  a small  scarp  formed  by  one  of  these 
outcrops.  To  the  west  the  mountains,  in  the  form 
of  a small  horseshoe-shaped  bay,  stood  up  very  steep 
and  menacing,  as  it  seemed. 

Since  four-thirty  p.m.  I had  noticed  an  occasional 
growd  of  thunder,  and  when  I looked  out  of  our  hut 
at  six-thirty  the  wind  was  rising ; before  eight  it  was 


AMONG  THE  LISUS  187 

raining,  a strong  wind  was  blowing  and  frequent  flashes 
of  lightning  illuminated  the  dark  sky;  evidently  it  was 
working  up  for  a storm. 

Quite  suddenly  it  burst  upon  us  with  awful  fury, 
the  wind  blowing  with  hurricane  force.  Nowr  the 
lightning  blazed  incessantly,  flash  following  flash  with 
such  rapidity  that  we  could  see  everything — bending 
trees,  whirling  leaves,  and  the  dark  outline  of  brooding 
mountains ; and  to  the  continuous  roll  of  thunder, 
like  heavy  artillery,  was  added  the  shriller  rattle  of 
drenching  rain  as  it  beat  viciously  on  the  stiff  palm 
leaves. 

The  storm  simply  crashed  down  on  to  the  village 
from  the  mountains,  as  though  someone  was  tipping 
barrels  full  of  water  and  compressed  air  on  top 
of  us. 

Water  poured  through  the  thatch  roof  of  our  hut, 
bringing  with  it  dirt  and  leaves  which  it  splashed 
everywhere,  quenching  the  fires  and  soaking  our 
belongings ; the  hut  rocked  and  shook  on  its  piles 
like  a liner  in  a gale ; people  screamed,  dogs  barked ; 
every  moment  I thought  the  hut  must  collapse.  Now 
the  voice  of  the  wind  in  the  stiff-leafed  sago  palms 
and  amongst  the  tall  clumps  of  bamboo  rose  to  an 
angry  scream,  and  above  all  this  tumult  could  be 
heard  the  deepening  roar  of  the  torrent  below. 

There  came  an  ominous  crash,  and  a shower  of 
sodden  leaves,  dirt  and  debris  from  the  roof  littered 
the  room  where  I sat,  the  earth  floor  of  which  was 
already  a puddle ; but  in  the  furious  gusts  which  came 
raging  down  the  mountain-side  I could  not  tell  what 
had  happened. 

Then  the  people  of  our  hut,  snatching  up  torches. 


1 88  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

rushed  out  into  the  darkness,  scared  and  weeping, 
and  in  the  dim  light  cast  by  the  quivering  flames 
I saw  the  hut  just  above  ours  lying  on  the  ground, 
a mass  of  broken  beams,  torn  thatch,  and  split  posts; 
the  wind  had  simply  crumpled  it  up  like  brown  paper. 
Around  it  stood  a group  of  wailing  villagers,  w-ho 
seemed  more  concerned  in  rescuing  a little  food  and 
a few  stoups  of  liquor  than  in  looking  to  see  if  any- 
one lay  beneath  the  wreckage,  though  that  may  have 
been  because  they  knew  all  had  escaped.  However, 
one  of  my  men  said  there  were  people  in  the  hut 
when  it  was  blown  down,  so  taking  my  lamp  I climbed 
up  the  shattered  roof  and  dropping  through  a hole 
found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a dreadful  tangle  through 
which  it  was  very  difficult  to  crawl ; in  this  way, 
partly  on  my  belly,  partly  on  hands  and  knees,  I 
explored  such  of  the  interior  as  was  not  absolutely 
razed  to  the  ground.  However,  there  were  no  victims. 
The  villagers  were  somewhat  concerned  for  my  safety, 
as  they  feared  a further  settling  down  of  the  huge 
mass,  for  their  huts  are  enormously  long,  and  it  had 
been  simply  doubled  up.  As  a matter  of  fact,  little 
of  it  could  have  been  laid  much  flatter  than  it  was 
already. 

Luckily  for  us  this  hut  stood  near  us  and  to 
windward,  otherwise  ours  would  have  gone ! As  it 
was,  fragments  had  beaten  against  our  roof,  sending 
showers  of  debris  into  the  rooms. 

Close  by  a second  hut,  in  which  less  than  an 
hour  before  a dozen  people  had  been  seated  round 
their  family  hearths,  lay  a shapeless  mass  on  the 
ground,  but  from  this  too  the  inhabitants  had  escaped 
just  in  time,  so  that  our  further  explorations  led  to 


AMONG  THE  LISUS  189 

no  sad  discoveries.  Had  anyone  remained  in  the  wrecked 
hut  he  must  have  been  crushed  by  the  falling  beams, 
or  suffocated  beneath  the  weight  of  sodden  thatch. 

After  paddling  about  in  the  mud  outside  and  delving 
amongst  the  wreckage  till  I was  festooned  with  soot 
and  leaves  from  the  thatch  roofs  (for  chimneys  there 
are  none,  and  the  interior  of  the  hut  is  black  with 
the  smoke  of  generations  of  fires),  while  people 
shouted  to  me  as  I crawled  here  and  there  to  hand 
out  bite  and  sup  which  they  specially  prized,  I returned 
to  my  quarters,  thankful  they  were  safe.  The  fire 
had  been  lit  again  and  Thing  was  preparing  my  dinner, 
though  even  here,  so  much  water  and  rubbish  were 
scattered  about,  it  looked  as  though  there  had  been 
a small  earthquake. 

It  was  nine  o’clock  and  the  storm  was  fast  dis- 
appearing in  the  south-west — you  could  still  hear  it, 
growing  fainter  and  fainter  as  it  died  away  down  the 
valley.  By  nine-thirty  it  was  all  over,  the  wind  hushed, 
even  the  thunder  too  faint  to  be  heard.  A great 
stillness  seemed  to  come  upon  the  wrecked  village 
as  suddenly  as  the  storm  itself  had  fallen  on  it. 

Such  was  the  result  of  the  last  ten  days  of  sultry 
weather,  this  furious  rush  of  air  and  electricity  from 
the  eastern  mountains. 

September  1 3th. — Minimum  6 1 *8°  F.  The  storm  had 
perceptibly  cooled  the  atmosphere,  but  at  six-thirty 
we  could  see  nothing  either  above  or  below,  or  a 
hundred  yards  away  in  any  direction,  for  we  were 
in  a bath  of  mist.  However,  it  soon  rolled  back  on 
to  the  mountains,  and  the  day  was  as  fine  as  ever, 
though  less  sultry. 

The  misfortunes  of  the  previous  night  prevented 


190  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

us  engaging  porters  at  this  village,  all  hands  being 
required  to  repair  the  damage,  but  we  prevailed  on 
those  who  had  accompanied  us  from  the  last  village 
to  go  on  with  us  another  stage. 

Ascending  the  ridge  above  the  village  in  the  track 
of  the  storm,  we  found  the  path  blocked  in  places  by- 
broken  branches  and  uprooted  trees,  mostly  young 
alders,  the  mountain-side  here  being,  as  usual,  open, 
covered  with  high  grass,  shrubs,  bushes  and  small 
trees  forming  thick  copses.  Here  I found  that  curious 
parasite  Aeginetia  indica. 

Later  we  met  some  travellers,  small  parties  of  Lisus 
and  Marus,  a sufficiently  rare  occurrence  to  comment 
upon. 

After  marching  through  the  forest  clothing  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  we  began  the  descent  to  the  Ahkyang 
valley,  following  a very  good  path  recently  cleared  of 
undergrowth  and  made  with  some  ideas  on  the  subject 
of  grading.  Presently  we  reached  a fair-sized  village, 
which,  however,  appeared  to  be  quite  deserted. 

We  could  see  some  distance  up  the  Ahkyang  valley, 
which  was  broad  and  open,  quite  different  to  anything 
we  had  yet  seen  in  this  country,  following  with  the 
eye  paths  on  either  side  leading  to  more  villages ; but 
the  river  itself,  some  distance  below,  was  still  invisible. 

The  porters  wanted  to  halt  here,  protesting  that  we 
could  not  reach  a village  across  the  river  that  night ; 
they  even  unearthed  a man  who  readily  perjured  him- 
self to  say  that  there  was  no  way  of  crossing  the  river 
till  the  morrow. 

However,  having,  after  a prolonged  halt  at  the  de- 
serted village,  unearthed  a few  men,  we  descended  by 
a narrow  path  so  buried  in  grass  from  eight  to  twelve 


AMONG  THE  LTSUS  191 

feet  high  that  we  could  not  see  our  way,  and  so  steep 
that  we  could  hardly  feel  it,  to  the  Ahkyang. 

Meanwhile  three  of  the  girl  porters  who  had  already 
come  two  marches  with  us  struck  work  and  ran  away 
to  the  village  above,  determined  not  to  cross  the  river. 

This  extreme  dislike  of  travelling  far  from  their  own 
village  evinced  by  most  of  the  Marus  may  be  a relic 
of  a time  when  every  village  was  against  every  other 
village,  and  to  enter  rival  territory  risked  being  cap- 
tured and  held  as  a slave.  Kachin  villages  of  different 
clans  to  this  day  raid  each  other  and  capture  slaves  of 
their  own  race. 

A quarter  of  a mile  up  the  left  bank  of  the  river  we 
found  a bamboo  raft  and  set  about  crossing  to  the 
other  bank,  a long  business,  as  the  raft  wrould  only  take 
two  men  and  two  loads  at  a time,  besides  a crew  of  one 
who  squatted  in  the  bows  paddling  and  steering. 

The  river  here  was  smooth  and  deep,  about  fifty 
yards  wide,  with  a gentle  current;  just  above  was  a 
big  rapid,  and  the  w^ater  became  turbulent  again  fifty 
yards  lower  down.  Both  banks  were  rocky,  fringed  wdth 
a great  variety  of  forest  trees,  and  the  viewr  dow  n-stream 
where  the  river  swrept  in  a broad  arc  between  high  cliffs 
to  join  the  ’Nmai  hka  not  far  belowr  wras  most  striking. 

It  was  a beautiful  sunny  afternoon,  and  while  the 
raft  was  plying  backwards  and  forwards  I went  in  for 
a swim. 

We  camped  for  the  night  on  the  far  bank  under  the 
rocks  and  trees,  one  of  the  latter  being  a tremendous 
fellowq  two  huge  plank  buttress  roots  of  which  facing 
me  looked  like  the  widespread  legs  of  some  giant. 
Between  these  my  bed  was  set  up. 

We  w^ere  poorly  sheltered  from  rain,  but  the 


1 92  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

evening  was  fine,  and  at  eight  o’clock  the  stars  were 
shining.  I had  supper  to  a chorus  of  insects  buzzing 
and  whirring  in  the  jungle,  accompanied  by  attacks 
from  mosquitoes  and  sand-flies  which  lasted  all  night. 
Before  we  turned  in  the  Marus  from  the  village  above, 
who  had  rafted  us  across  and  replaced  the  runaway 
girls,  returned  to  the  left  bank,  promising  to  come 
back  again  early  next  morning,  a promise  which,  rather 
to  my  surprise,  they  kept. 

September  \^th. — Minimum  6y6°  F. — much  warmer 
down  here.  Heavy  rain  in  the  early  morning,  so  that 
we  all  got  wet  in  our  natural  shelters,  which  were  not 
sufficiently  large  to  protect  us.  The  river  water  had 
changed  colour  from  green  to  brown,  telling  of  rain  in 
the  mountains  ; its  temparature  was  65°  F.  I saw  a big 
grey  kingfisher  here,  and  the  Ahkyang  looked  an  ideal 
river  for  mahseer. 

We  started  about  nine  on  a most  appalling  climb 
straight  up' the  cliff.  Once  out  of  the  fringe  of  jungle 
the  narrow  path  was  completely  hidden  by  the  tall, 
saw-edged  grass,  twining  Leguminosoe,  birch  and  alder 
saplings,  and  shrubs,  but  mostly  tussocks  of  twelve-foot 
grass,  so  that  we  were  buried  in  it.  Through  this 
unyielding  tangle  we  had  to  push  our  way,  sometimes 
crawling  on  hands  and  knees,  so  tightly  was  the 
vegetation  laced  together  above,  cutting  our  faces  on 
the  sharp  edges  of  the  grass.  The  sun  was  blazing 
hot,  there  was  no  shade  and  the  flies  gave  us  no  peace. 
On  the  whole,  I thought,  the  jungles  of  the  Wulaw 
Pass  were  preferable  to  those  open  hill-sides  in  the 
’Nmai  valley. 

It  took  us  two  hours  to  reach  the  crest  of  a spur, 
after  which  the  going  was  better  to  the  top  of  the  ridge. 


AMONG  THE  LISES  193 

Keeping  along  the  ridge  for  a bit,  we  presently  found 
ourselves  on  another  good  path  like  the  one  which  had 
attracted  our  attention  the  previous  day,  and  descending 
a little,  reached  a small  village. 

It  was  barely  one  o’clock,  but  here  we  had  to  halt, 
having  gained  nothing  but  moral  satisfaction  from 
crossing  the  Ahkyang  the  night  before;  it  was  the 
last  attempt  I made  at  speeding  up.  We  heard  that  a 
British  official  and  some  soldiers  had  just  gone  up  the 
Ahkyang  valley,  having  slept  in  the  hut  we  now 
occupied ; however,  he  was  expected  back  in  a day  or 
two,  whereat  I rejoiced.  Still,  we  could  not  wait,  as  we 
had  so  little  to  eat,  and  besides  he  might  be  short  of 
supplies  himself  on  his  return  march.  But  I hoped  he 
might  overtake  us  before  we  reached  Hkamti  Long. 

As  it  turned  out  eventually,  it  was  not  a British 
officer  at  all,  but  a native  Government  employe. 

We  spent  a beautiful  sunny  afternoon  drying  our 
things.  It  was  quite  pleasant  here  at  an  altitude  of 
5000  or  6000  feet,  with  a cool  breeze,  the  shade 
temperature  at  three  p.m.  being  79*  i°  F.  At  dusk 
a wind  sprang  up  and  rain  threatened,  but  at  seven 
o’clock  the  stars  were  shining.  However,  when  we 
turned  in  at  nine-thirty  it  was  raining  steadily,  and  it 
was  a fact  that  you  could  not  depend  on  the  weather 
for  an  hour  in  this  valley. 

September  i $th. — Minimum  temperature  64*3  °F.  For 
several  days  past  we  had  been  inquiring  how  many 
marches  it  was  to  Hkamti  Long,  but  no  one  knew;  they 
did  not  seem  to  have  ever  heard  of  the  place.  However, 
I reckoned  from  the  map  it  could  not  be  many  marches 
now ; but  the  worst  w?as  yet  to  come. 

As  usual,  the  valley  was  full  of  cloud  when  we  got 

N 


i94  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

up,  but  presently  patches  of  blue  sky  began  to  show 
through  the  breaking  mists  overhead.  After  nine  we 
had  continuous  sunshine  and  blue  sky  over  the  valley, 
with  clouds  only  on  the  mountain-tops. 

It  was,  too,  distinctly  cooler  again,  and  there  being 
very  much  less  climbing  than  usual,  I was  able  to  take 
more  interest  in  my  surroundings,  in  spite  of  a long 
eight  hours’  march. 

There  were  certainly  plenty  of  things  to  interest  one 
on  every  hand — plants,  trees,  butterflies,  birds,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  few  people  we  met  on  the  road,  and 
those  in  the  villages. 

In  the  very  next  village  we  came  to  we  met  a party 
of  Lisus  from  farther  north,  quite  different  from  any  we 
had  yet  come  across.  Each  carried  a very  long,  straight, 
pointed  dah , similar  to  the  Burmese  weapon,  in  a proper 
sheath,  not  like  the  short,  broad-headed  dah  of  the 
Kachin  tribes,  with  its  open  scabbard.  This  dah  was 
about  four  feet  long  and  had  a scarlet  handle. 

They  also  had  bags  made  from  the  fur  of  a silver- 
grey  monkey,  whose  paws  were  crossed  pathetically 
over  the  lid  of  the  bag. 

The  first  half  of  the  march  we  were  in  the  jungle 
nearly  all  the  time,  the  path  quite  good,  with  easy  ups 
and  downs.  Mosquitoes,  flies  and  bees  were  rather  a 
pest  here. 

Amongst  the  trees  I noted  two  species  of  oak,  a 
Castanopsis,  a Ficus,  two  tree  ferns  and  several  big  lianas. 
Many  of  the  trees  had  conspicuous  plank  buttress  roots, 
and  a climbing  Aroid  was  common,  besides  bananas, 
begonias,  Impatiens  and  other  jungle  flowers ; but  I saw 
no  palms  or  screw  pines.  The  most  interesting  plant 
met  with  was  a species  of  Piper,  the  leaves  and  fruits  of 


AMONG  THE  LTSTJS  195 

which  were  eagerly  plucked  by  my  porters  to  chew  ; 
they  said  it  improved  their  stamina. 

In  the  southern  parts  of  Burma  Piper  betle  is  culti- 
vated, and  the  leaves  chewed  with  lime  and  the  betel 
palm  nut  (Areca  sp.)  by  the  natives. 

On  the  open  hill-sides  grew  two  species  of  Rubus, 
Aims  nepalensis , Ailanthus  sp.,  shrubby  Polygonum,  a 
poplar,  a birch,  Melastoma  sp.,  tall,  yellow-flowered 
Hibiscus,  Urena  lobata  covered  with  pink  flowers,  and 
any  amount  of  saw-edged  grass. 

On  a plant  of  Polygonum  I saw  a caterpillar  of  the 
Geometry  class,  which  at  first  I took  for  a dead  leaf. 
There  were  several  shrivelled  brown  leaves  on  the  stem, 
and  this  cunning  caterpillar,  by  standing  on  the  stem 
at  the  same  angle  as  a dead  leaf,  being  of  the  same 
colour  and  shape,  readily  passed  for  one. 

Another  caterpillar  might  easily  have  been  mistaken 
for  a muff,  so  densely  was  he  clothed  with  hairs;  he 
must  have  found  it  very  hot  in  this  climate,  I thought ! 

Several  birds  whose  voices  are  familiar  in  Burma 
were  heard  calling,  and  on  the  banks  brown,  smooth- 
skinned, shiny  lizards  disported  themselves;  we  also 
saw  a couple  of  green  snakes,  neither  of  large  size. 

After  emerging  from  the  jungle  on  the  summit  of 
the  ridge,  and  descending  a little,  we  came  to  some 
Lisu  huts,  and  here  the  men  got  a few  yellow-skinned 
cucumbers,  two  of  which  constituted  my  lunch ; they 
were  very  juicy,  and  splendid  thirst-quenchers. 

The  path  here  wras  pretty  good,  winding  round  a few 
small  gullies  which  did  not  give  us  much  climbing  up 
and  down.  We  passed  through  twro  more  small  Lisu 
villages,  and  then  a climb  to  the  summit  of  a spur,  with 
a view  of  the  river  to  the  north,  and  a longish  descent. 


196  among  the  lisus 

brought  us  to  Wakawatu,  the  first  Lisu  village  of  any 
size.  We  did  not  arrive  here  till  after  six,  when  it  was 
already  dark,  having  done  about  twenty  miles. 

At  nine  p.m.  the  sky  was  cloudy,  the  temperature  69°  F. 

We  had  great  fun  with  the  baboon  this  march.  He 
generally  rode  on  top  of  one  of  the  loads,  or  on  a man’s 
shoulder,  or  even  on  his  head,  where  he  spent  the  time 
looking  for  lice,  an  occupation  which  amused  him  greatly 
and  was  certainly  attended  by  a fair  measure  of  success. 
Now  that  he  had  come  to  recognise  in  some  manner  my 
claims  on  him,  I could  pick  him  up  and  perch  him  on  my 
shoulder,  from  which  vantage  point  he  would  pull 
my  hair  vigorously — I couldn’t  offer  him  the  same  amuse- 
ment as  the  natives  did.  However,  he  was  not  quite 
reconciled  to  me  yet.  When  I picked  him  up,  he 
would  look  up  into  my  face  with  a surprised,  questioning 
expression,  as  though  asking  me  what  I meant  by  taking 
such  a liberty  with  him,  blink  his  eyes  very  deliberately 
once  or  twice,  keep  still  for  a moment,  and  then  give  a 
sudden  wriggle,  at  the  same  moment  biting  my  fingers. 
The  suddenness  of  the  attack  often  ensured  its  success, 
and  then  he  would  drop  to  the  ground  and  make  off  at 
full  speed,  in  a series  of  leaps  which  took  him  along 
at  a great  pace. 

Then  perhaps  Maru,  seeing  him  and  thinking  it  was 
rather  a good  game,  would  rush  after  him,  and  it  was 
laughable  to  see  them  together,  the  one  fleeing  and 
dodging  as  though  for  his  life,  the  other  in  hot  pursuit. 
Eventually  the  pup  would  catch  him  up,  and  roll  him 
over,  and  the  monkey  would  lie  low  by  the  roadside 
for  a minute,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 

Presently  Maru  would  begin  to  lick  him  and  give  him 
little  playful  nips,  and  the  monkey  would  shut  his  eyes 


AMONG  THE  LTSTJS  197 

ami  tilt  up  his  chin  and  smooth  a few  of  the  creases  out 
of  his  face  with  a pained,  resigned  sort  of  expression 
which  said  as  plainly  as  words:  “ I suppose  I had  best 
submit  to  the  ill-timed  levity  of  this  plebeian  beast;” 
Maru  was  always  very  gentle,  but  the  monkey  never 
became  quite  reconciled  to  him,  escaping  as  soon  as  he 
could  and  swarming  up  the  nearest  man’s  leg,  from 
wrhich  safe  retreat  he  would  chatter  with  rage  at  the 
indignity  of  it  all,  and  grin  horribly  at  the  puzzled  little 
dog,  who  did  not  understand. 

He  expressed  his  emotions  volubly.  When  his 
attempts  to  escape  from  my  clutches  met  with  no 
success,  he  would  give  a shrill,  querulous  call,  as 
though  he  were  lost  and  required  immediate  assistance. 
It  was  a plaintive  cry  for  help  to  one  of  the  natives. 
When  annoyed,  as  he  was  when  I smacked  him  for 
biting,  he  always  gave  an  angry  little  scream ; at 
meal-time  he  mewed  like  a kitten,  which  was  his 
wray  of  asking  for  food,  and  again  he  would  change  to 
a coughing  purr,  which  seemed  to  indicate  contentment.1 

September  1 6th. — Minimum  temperature  65*5°  F. 
In  contrast  to  the  Maru  huts,  the  Lisu  huts,  though 
of  a more  substantial  build,  are  quite  small  and  have 


1 Macaca  assamensis.  “ Anger  is  generally  silent,  or  at  most 
expressed  by  a low,  hoarse  monotone,  heu , not  so  gular  or  guttural 
as  a growl.  Ennui  and  a desire  for  company  by  a whining  hom. 
Invitation,  deprecation,  entreaty  by  a smacking  of  the  lips,  and  a 
display  of  the  incisors  into  a regular  broad  grin,  accompanied  with 
a subdued  grunting  chuckle,  highly  expressive,  but  not  to  be  rendered 
on  paper.  Fear  and  alarm  by  a loud,  harsh  shriek,  hr  a,  or  kronk, 
which  serves  also  as  a warning  to  the  others  who  may  be  heedless 
of  danger.  Unlike  the  Presbytes  (Semnopitheci)  and  Gibbons, 
they  have  no  voice  if  calling  to  one  another”  (Tickell,  in  Fauna 
of  British  India , by  W.  T.  Blanford,  F.R.S.). 


198  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

scarcely  any  projecting  porch  in  front;  nor  is  there 
any  passage  down  the  length  of  the  hut — instead  the 
interior  is  completely  partitioned  into  three  rooms,  as 
in  the  Yawyin  huts  already  described.  Like  the  Maru 
huts,  they  are  raised  on  piles,  with  walls  and  floor  of 
bamboo  matting,  and  thatched  roof.  In  the  middle 
of  each  room  is  the  usual  earthen  hearth. 

Besides  being  much  smaller,  the  Lisu  huts  are 
more  scattered,  and  the  villages  are  situated  in  the 
bays  between  the  spurs,  instead  of  being  perched 
up  on  the  spurs  themselves.  The  Lisus  we  met  all 
spoke  Maru,  though  none  of  the  Marus  could  speak 
Lisu. 

We  continued  our  march  northwards  in  drizzling 
weather,  though  it  improved  in  the  middle  of  the 
day.  The  path  was  fairly  easy,  though  we  had  to 
cross  one  big  gully.  Just  here  the  ’Nmai  valley  was 
more  open,  the  slopes  more  gentle,  the  spurs  falling 
less  abruptly  to  the  river,  so  that  when,  in  the  after- 
noon, we  got  up  to  a fair  height,  looking  back  we 
had  quite  a striking  view  of  the  river,  hitherto  so 
rarely  visible. 

About  one-thirty  we  halted  at  a Lisu  village  for 
rest  and  refreshment,  having  been  going  for  nearly 
five  hours. 

These  Lisus  must  not  be  confused  with  the  Yawyins 
( [hua  Lisus)  of  the  Burma-Yun-nan  frontier  hills 
farther  south.  True,  they  speak  practically  the  same 
language,  and  are  probably  different  clans  of  the 
same  tribe.  But  they  differ  considerably  from  the 
Yawyins  in  dress,  and  to  some  extent  in  appearance, 
being  taller  but  less  sturdy.  They  are,  in  fact, 
identical  with  the  redoubtable  “ black  ” (/j2)  Lisus 


AMONG  THE  LISUS  199 

of  the  Salween  valley,  from  which  region  they  have 
emigrated  into  British  territory  via  the  Ahkyang 
valley,  probably  within  recent  years,  as  a result  of 
the  recent  Chinese  occupation  of  the  Salween  valley, 
just  as  the  Yawyins  are  doing  farther  south.  I saw 
evidence  of  Chinese  influence  in  their  clothes,  cooking 
pots  and  household  goods. 

I found  them  rather  shy  and  suspicious ; they  asked 
prohibitive  prices  for  eggs,  and  beyond  that  we  could 
buy  hardly  anything  from  them,  though  my  cook 
commandeered  a fowl  about  the  size  of  a dove,  for 
which  I paid  a rupee. 

It  would  seem  that  the  hi  Lisus  are  a degenerate 
clan  of  the  great  Lisu  tribe,  who  have  been  adversely 
affected  by  living  in  the  enervating  Salween  valley, 
which,  from  latitude  28°  southwards,  is  low-lying,  rain- 
drenched  and  pestilential. 

The  hua  Lisus,  on  the  other  hand,  many  of  whom, 
as  we  have  seen,  are  now  migrating  into  British 
territory  from  across  the  China  frontier,  owing  to 
the  pressure  of  the  Chinese,  are  a typical  mountain 
people,  hardy,  resourceful  and  pleasant  to  deal  with. 

The  dress  of  the  hi  Lisu  women  is  characteristic, 
and  quite  distinct  from  the  harlequin  skirt  of  the 
Yawryin,  which  latter  peculiarity  is  said  to  be  due 
to  local  influence. 

She  wears  a thin,  pleated  skirt  down  to  her 
knees,  rather  full  at  the  waist,  made  of  white  hemp 
cloth  with  thin  blue  stripes,  and  a loose  jacket  to 
match.  Feet  and  legs  are  bare,  but  below  the  knee  a 
garter  of  black  cane  rings  is  worn.  There  is  little 
display  of  jewellery  such  as  the  Tibetan  women 
wear,  this  being  confined  to  large  earrings  and  silver 


200  AMONG  THE  LISUS 

bracelets,  while  hoops  of  bamboo  or  iron  are  worn 
round  the  neck.  The  ears  are  not  bored  like  those 
of  the  Burmans,  Shans  and  Kachin  tribes,  nor  are 
masses  of  beads,  such  as  the  Lashis,  Marus  and 
others  delight  in,  worn — probably  because  they  are  not 
obtainable.  The  hair  is  done  in  two  hanging  pig- 
tails, and  round  the  brow  is  bound  a fillet  of  white 
shirt  buttons,  or,  in  rare  cases,  of  cowry  shells,  from 
which  dangles  a fringe  of  tiny  beads  ending  with 
dummy  brass  bells.  Cowry  belts  like  those  of  the 
Maru  girls  were  not  seen. 

The  men  wear  a long  cloak  like  a dressing-gown, 
of  the  same  thin,  white,  striped  cloth,  which  is  slit 
up  the  sides  to  the  middle  and  tied  round  the  waist. 
Often  short,  baggy  trousers  of  blue  cotton  cloth, 
obtained  from  China,  are  worn  underneath,  and  not 
a few  of  the  men  wear  Chinese  trousers  and  jacket 
only.  The  hair  is  done  in  a single  pig-tail  which  is 
not  bound  on  top  of  the  head.  Large  dabs , cross- 
bows and  bags  of  monkey-skin,  in  which  tobacco  and 
food  are  carried,  are  in  everyday  use. 

So  much  for  the  b$  Lisus  of  the  Burmese  hinterland. 
They  do  not  differ  materially  from  their  relatives  in 
the  Salween  valley  immediately  to  the  east,  though 
some  of  the  latter  are  even  more  uncouth. 

In  the  afternoon  we  continued  our  march,  reaching 
another  village  after  dark,  by  which  time  we  had 
covered  over  twenty  miles. 


CHAPTER  XIII 


A DESPERATE  MARCH 


f^fEPTEMBER  ijtb. — Minimum  637°  F.,  the 
, \ valley  below  us  full  of  cloud  in  the  early  morning 
as  usual. 

We  were  told  we  could  reach  Hkamti  in  six  days, 
but  that  as  there  were  no  villages  en  route  we  should 
have  to  engage  porters  for  the  whole  journey.  That 
meant  a delay  anyhow,  to  prepare  food.  Unfortunately 
all  the  men  of  the  village  had  gone  as  porters  with 
a Government  party  which  had  been  up  the  Ahkyang 
valley  a fortnight  previously  and  were  not  back  yet. 

I therefore  decided  to  push  on  with  our  permanent 
men — namely,  four  Marus  and  three  Lashis — leaving 
T‘ung  to  follow  in  charge  of  the  remaining  loads 
as  soon  as  possible;  meanwhile  we  sent  a Lashi  and 
a Maru  back  to  the  last  village  to  engage  porters 
there. 

Starting  late,  we  crossed  several  deep  gullies  filled 
with  dense  jungle,  the  path  becoming  worse  and 
worse,  and  presently  reached  a few  miserable  Lisu 
huts,  where  we  halted  for  an  hour.  Continuing, 
we  crossed  more  gullies,  and  at  length  obtained  a 
good  view  of  the  river,  to  which  we  descended 
gradually. 

Now  for  the  first  time  we  found  ourselves  by  the 
great  river  we  had  followed  so  persistently  for  over 
a fortnight,  with  rarely  even  a glimpse  of  it,  though 


201 


202  A DESPERATE  MARCH 

so  close.  It  was  a fine,  swift  river  seventy  or  eighty 
yards  broad,  broken  here  and  there  by  rapids.  The 
temperature  of  the  water,  which  was  deep  green 
in  colour,  was  63°  F.,  two  degrees  colder  than  the 
Ahkyang. 

The  thick  jungle  came  down  almost  to  the  water’s 
edge  on  both  sides,  but  there  were  sand-banks  and 
coves,  and  stretches  of  boulders  covered  with  azalea 
( Rhododendron  indicum ),  Pyrus  and  other  shrubs  like 
those  we  had  seen  previously.  The  river  was  not 
in  full  spate,  for  the  winter  snows  had  long  since 
melted  on  the  northern  mountains,  and  probably  the 
worst  of  the  rains  were  over. 

We  halted  before  dusk  in  a sandy  bay  where  stood 
a few  old  bamboo  shelters,  roofed  with  banana  leaves, 
which  the  men  proceeded  to  renovate.  Close  beside 
us  was  a glorious  tree,  like  a weeping  hornbeam, 
from  which  depended  hundreds  of  long  yellow  ropes 
of  winged  fruits.  This  was  a species  of  Englehardtia. 

The  view  just  before  dark,  with  wreaths  of  thin 
mist  forming  over  the  river  which  twisted  away  into 
the  twilight  of  the  forested  mountains,  was  extra- 
ordinarily solemn;  the  cicadas  were  making  such  a 
noise  we  could  barely  hear  the  splash  of  the  water 
below  our  sand-bank,  or  the  occasional  hoot  of  an 
owl.  But  the  low-hanging  clouds  were  not  reassuring, 
and  the  sand-flies  and  mosquitoes  were  a nightmare. 

September  1 %tb.  — Minimum  6yy°  F.  When  we 
woke  up  at  daylight  banks  of  mist  lay  over  the  river, 
which  was  scarcely  visible  except  immediately  below, 
but  there  was  blue  sky  overhead. 

Following  up  the  left  bank,  we  reached  the  crossing 
in  an  hour,  and  here  happily  met  the  returning  Lisus 


A DESPERATE  MARCH  203 

of  the  last  village,  otherwise  we  should  probably 
never  have  got  across  at  all.  In  winter  at  least  rafts 
can  cross  near  where  we  camped,  and  probably  they 
could  have  made  the  trip  safely  now,  only  there 
were  none.  Here  the  river  was  narrower,  and  flowed 
swiftly  between  high,  rocky  walls  of  vertically  tilted 
slates  and  schists. 

From  bank  to  bank  were  loosely  slung  two  ropes 
of  plaited  bamboo,  their  ends  tied  to  trees ; and  by 
one  or  other  of  these  ropes,  it  did  not  matter  which, 
we  had  to  cross. 

Such  rope  bridges  are  common  in  Tibet,  across 
bigger  rivers  than  this,  but  how  different ! 

In  the  first  place,  each  rope  is  attached  high  up 
on  the  bank  from  which  you  start,  and  low  down 
on  the  bank  at  which  you  arrive,  and  is  kept  taut; 
thus  you  cross  the  river  by  your  own  momentum, 
and  the  object  of  having  two  ropes  is  to  enable  you 
to  cross  in  either  direction. 

In  the  second  place,  the  Tibetan  ropes  are  of 
finely  plaited  bamboo,  and  are  w^ell  greased  (with 
butter)  before  starting,  to  reduce  the  friction.  But 
this  rope  was  made  up  of  three  coarsely  woven 
strands,  so  splintered  as  to  look  very  unsafe,  anff 
there  was  no  grease.  The  wooden  sliders  too  were 
broad  and  ill-balanced,  adding  to  the  friction.  Finally, 
instead  of  stout  leather  thongs  such  as  the  Tibetans 
use  for  slinging  men  and  loads  from  the  slider,  the 
Lisus  used  their  waist-cloths  and  turbans,  both  of 
which  were  yards  in  length.  It  was  evident  the 
Lisus  w-ere  not  accustomed  to  this  method  of  crossing 
a river,  and  the  whole  outfit  was  very  second-rate  in 
consequence. 


204  a DESPERATE  MARCH 

Every  man  had  to  pull  himself  across  more  than 
half-way.  As  for  the  loads,  they  would  not  budge 
down  the  rope  of  their  own  accord,  and  each  one 
had  to  be  laboriously  hauled  along  by  a man  in  front, 
who  clasped  his  legs  round  it  and  then  slowly  pulled 
himself  and  the  load  up  the  rope.  No  wonder  the 
crossing  took  four  hours ! The  Tibetans  would  have 
had  us  across  one  of  their  rope  bridges  in  an  hour. 

Meanwhile,  waiting  on  the  steep  river  bank,  we 
were  tortured  by  mosquitoes,  bees  and  biting  flies 
of  many  descriptions. 

The  men  crossed  one  by  one,  clutching  the  rope 
with  their  toes  and  pushing,  as  well  as  pulling  with 
their  arms. 

My  turn  to  cross  came  last.  Accustomed  to  being 
whisked  across  the  great  Tibetan  rivers  in  one  grand 
rush,  I did  not  at  all  relish  the  prospect  of  hauling 
myself  up  this  sagging  rope. 

Just  before  I started  the  monkey,  seeing  none  of 
his  friends  round  him,  jumped  from  my  shoulder  on  to 
the  rope  and  began  running  across,  crying  out  as  he 
went.  In  the  middle  he  stopped,  as  though  frightened 
by  the  rush  of  water  beneath  him;  once  or  twice 
he  slipped,  and  I thought  he  must  go  over,  but  he 
performed  the  hazardous  feat  of  turning  round  without 
mishap. 

I then  started  and  slid  less  that  half-way  over. 
It  was  a most  horrid  sensation  lying  on  one’s  back 
beneath  the  rope,  perched  in  a cloth  noose  suspended 
from  a slider  which  threatened  to  slip  off  the  rope, 
leaving  the  cloth  to  be  cut  through  by  the  sharp 
bamboo,  arms  stretched  out  at  full  length  over  one’s 
head,  clutching  the  rope. 


A DESPERATE  MARCH  205 

Tremendous  exertion  was  needed  to  pull  oneself 
up  the  steep  rope  in  such  a position,  against  the 
friction  of  the  slider,  and  when  I was  over  the  very 
worst  bit  of  water,  a broken  rapid,  running  like  a 
mill  race,  I felt  thoroughly  exhausted,  and  had  to 
hang  on  there  for  a rest.  Thus,  looking  down  at 
the  raging  river  forty  feet  below,  from  which  I was 
preserved  by  a cloth  band  and  the  strength  of  my 
own  arms,  I could  not  suppress  a shudder. 

I had  now  caught  up  the  monkey,  seeing  which 
he  sat  grinning  at  me  for  a moment,  and  then  jumped 
on  my  shoulder.  Slowly  I pulled  myself  up  the 
remaining  distance,  and  as  I at  last  neared  the  bank, 
the  waiting  men  threw  a rope  and  hauled  me  up  the 
last  few  yards  like  a sack.  It  was  good  to  stand  on 
solid  earth  again. 

One  of  the  Lisus  returning  from  Kawnglu,  the  out- 
lying British  post  our  informants  had  referred  to  when 
saying  we  were  six  marches  from  Hkamti,  brought  me 
a note  from  Mr  J.  T.  O.  Barnard,  the  frontier  officer 
there,  enclosing  a telegram  from  Mr  Hertz,  Deputy 
Commissioner  at  Hkamti  Long. 

I was  glad  they  were  expecting  me ; it  seemed  to 
bring  the  place  nearer.  No  mention  was  made  of  the 
war  and  we  were  still  in  complete  ignorance  of  that 
astounding  news. 

We  now  climbed  up  the  steep  river  bank  in  thick 
jungle  by  an  execrable  path  till  we  joined  the  main 
path  a few  hundred  feet  above  the  river.  Except 
for  ankle-deep  mud,  which  had  been  a feature  of  the 
path  ever  since  leaving  the  Lisu  village,  the  going 
was  not  bad. 

Crossing  a large  torrent,  we  ascended  gradually, 


206  a desperate  march 

approaching  a considerable  lateral  valley,  and  halted 
at  five  o’clock  by  an  old  camping  ground.  Here  we 
settled  down  for  the  night  in  a perfect  haze  of  sand- 
flies, did  up  the  old  tumble-down  shelters,  and  cut 
bamboos  for  new  ones,  roofing  them  as  usual  with 
leaves  of  wild  banana. 

Breakfast  had  consisted  of  tea,  two  biscuits  and 
a plate  of  boiled  rice  and  pumpkin,  followed  by  a 
boiled  egg. 

This  last  was  sprung  on  me  as  a surprise,  having 
been  commandeered  by  my  Chinese  cook,  who,  ignor- 
ing the  protests  of  the  Lisus  that  they  had  none, 
had  gone  the  round  of  the  baskets  hung  beneath 
the  eaves  of  the  hut  and  resurrected  six.  At  two 
o’clock  I had  a small  piece  of  chocolate  for  lunch, 
and  when  we  reached  camp,  at  five,  I had  a cup  of 
tea  with  two  biscuits  and  a maize  cob.  For  supper, 
a plate  of  boiled  rice  and  pumpkin,  apple  rings  and 
some  maize  liquor  obtained  from  the  natives.  The 
biscuit,  egg  and  tea  ration  were  carefully  apportioned 
to  each  day,  in  the  hope  of  making  them  last  out, 
but  with  the  rice,  pumpkin  and  maize  cobs  I could 
afford  to  be  fairly  reckless.  There  was  nothing  else. 

September  19 th. — Minimum  66°  F.  The  weather  was 
very  unsettled  all  day,  with  showers  at  intervals. 

Shortly  after  starting  we  came  to  the  big  torrent 
up  which  our  route  lay  westward  to  the  pass,  and 
turning  our  backs  on  the  ’Nmai  hka  began  the 
ascent.  We  were  now  over  our  ankles  in  mud  the 
whole  time,  which  made  it  very  tiring — loose  sand 
is  the  only  thing  to  compare  with  it.  Presently 
the  stream  branched  into  two,  and  the  ascent  became 
steeper.  Near  by  we  saw  a mule  skeleton  and  broken 


A DESPERATE  MARCH  207 

pack-saddle,  grim  reminders  of  the  previous  year’s 
expedition  to  the  Ahkyang ! 

Some  Lisus  on  their  way  down  passed  us,  and  at 
three  o’clock  we  halted  by  the  torrent,  which  here 
tumbled  noisily  down  a steep  granite  stairway,  camp- 
ing beneath  a huge  boulder  which  afforded  ample 
shelter  for  all ; and  a very  cosy  place  it  was,  though 
chilly  chiefly  on  account  of  the  torrent.  A large 
torrent  always  causes  a cold  draught. 

On  the  rocks  grew  several  species  of  Impatiens, 
including  the  one  with  bright  magenta  flowers,  and 
an  orange  one  with  a long  spur;  another  pretty  one 
had  large  rose-pink  flowers.  In  the  jungle  I noticed 
walnut-trees,  but  the  nuts  are  like  stones  and  con- 
tain no  edible  kernel. 

The  monkey  was  quite  friendly  writh  me  by  this 
time,  and  rode  on  my  shoulder  most  of  the  way, 
eating  chocolate.  He  was  very  fond  of  maize  liquor 
too,  and  would  fill  his  cheek  pouches  writh  food  to 
be  chewed  at  leisure  later  on.  He  had  a curious 
way  of  sleeping  on  his  belly,  all  bunched  up  into 
a ball,  and  his  little  cry  of  pleasure,  his  querulous 
scream  and  his  shrill  scream  of  anger  were  fre- 
quently heard. 

In  the  forest  I saw  an  enormous  butterfly,  similar 
to  one  noticed  at  Hpimaw.  It  flapped  its  great  wings 
slowdy  and  sedately,  and  settled  with  them  outspread, 
the  hind  wings  being  purple  and  brown,  fading  to 
white  on  the  front  wings.  It  haunts  shady  forests  at 
moderate  elevations. 

At  eight-thirty  the  thermometer  stood  at  60*5°  F. 

September  20 tb.  — Minimum  50*8°  F.  For  nearly 
three  hours  we  climbed  steeply  up  the  mountain-side  in 


208  a desperate  march 

the  deep  mud,  while  it  rained  steadily  throughout. 
In  some  of  the  steepest  places  attempts  had  been 
made  by  the  Chinese  muleteers  who  had  accompanied 
the  expedition  in  the  previous  year  to  improve  the 
track  by  laying  down  bamboos ; but  as  these  were 
laid  lengthwise  we  could  not  stand  on  them,  what- 
ever the  mules  could  do,  and  slipped  so  badly  at 
every  step — for  wet  bamboo  on  a slope  is  like  ice — 
that  we  were  content  to  plod  through  the  thick,  sticky 
mud  instead. 

At  last  we  reached  the  pass  known  as  the  Shing- 
rup-kyet,  8000  feet,  and  stood  on  the  water  parting 
between  the  ’Nmai  hka  and  the  Mali  hka,  the  two 
great  branches  of  the  Irrawaddy  which  unite  above 
Myitkyina,  nearly  1000  miles  from  the  sea  and 
200  miles  from  where  we  stood.  Through  the  thick 
rain  mist  we  could  see  a loop  of  the  ’Nmai  hka 
to  the  north-east,  which  was  within  a short  day’s 
march.  Had  we  been  able  to  see  westwards  we 
should  have  seen  nothing  but  range  after  range  of 
forested  mountains,  stretching  to  the  horizon,  all 
of  which  had  to  be  crossed  before  we  reached  the 
Mali  hka  and  the  broad,  open  plains  of  Hkamti. 
However,  we  were  spared  that  sight — perhaps  it  was 
as  well  not  to  know  what  was  in  store  for  us — and 
looked  down  into  a cauldron  of  obliterating  mist 
instead. 

Following  the  stream  down  between  high  banks 
covered  with  variously  coloured  begonias  and  balsam, 
we  presently  came  on  an  open  meadow  in  the  jungle, 
where  a species  of  Impatiens  grew  four  feet  high, 
and  scattered  in  its  midst  were  bananas,  oaks  and  Ficus 
trees,  covered  with  climbing  Aroids. 


A Maru  Grave  and  a Nung  Rope  Bridge. 

The  grave  has  a sugar-loaf  thatched  roof.  It  is  crowned  by  a painted  design.  Inside  is  the 
coffin,  containing  ashes,  not  bones.  Photo  by  A . IV.  Porter,  Esq. 

The  man's  body  is  thrust  through  a large  cane  ring,  threaded  on  the  rope  ; he  hauls  himself 
along,  pushing  with  his  feet.  Photo  by  P.  if.  R.  Leonard,  Esq. 


A DESPERATE  MARCH  209 

Then  down,  down,  a long  way,  till  it  seemed  we 
must  be  coming  down  to  the  plains  almost,  so  big 
had  the  stream  grown. 

But  no  sooner  had  this  thought  come  to  me  than 
we  began  to  climb  again,  ascending  a steep  spur. 
Up  and  up  we  went,  while  the  rain  poured  down, 
making  the  track  hopelessly  slippery,  till  we  had  re- 
ascended as  many  thousand  feet  as  we  had  previously 
descended. 

At  last  we  came  to  some  shelters,  built  by  previous 
travellers,  and  the  men  wanted  to  halt — it  was  then 
about  three-thirty.  But  camp  was  so  dismal  and  we 
were  so  short  of  food  that  I was  determined  to  march 
while  there  was  daylight,  so  on  we  went,  now  up, 
now  down,  with  occasional  peeps  through  the  trees 
and  broken  mist  of  endless  mountain  ranges  in  the 
west. 

Finally  we  started  definitely  on  another  long  descent, 
and  did  not  halt  till  nearly  six,  when  we  came  to  a 
miserable  shelter.  The  men  soon  ran  up  some  new 
ones  and  built  smoky  fires  to  keep  down  the  sand- 
flies which  swarmed.  Leeches  too  had  begun  to 
worry  us,  particularly  little  Maru,  who  ran  along  with 
his  nose  on  the  ground  and  got  them  up  his  nostrils, 
under  his  eyelids,  and  in  his  ears.  Big  blood-sucking 
horse-flies  were  another  pest,  and  at  supper  nasty- 
looking stick-insects  got  bogged  in  the  butter,  and 
drunken  cicadas  dropped  into  the  food  from  the 
trees,  protesting  stridently.  But  the  most  remark- 
able change  on  this  side  of  the  divide  was  the 
sudden  appearance  of  screw  pines  (Pandanus  sp.) 
in  large  numbers,  growing  fifteen  or  twenty  feet 
high,  propped  up  on  their  stilt  roots. 


2 10  A DESPERATE  MARCH 

In  rhe  afternoon  the  monkey  ran  away  into  the 
jungle  out  of  pique  because  I smacked  him.  I thought 
he  was  lost,  but  presently  I heard  him  screeching  away, 
and  caught  sight  of  him  crawling  along  the  branch  of  a 
tree  farther  down  the  slope.  I called  and  called,  but 
he  ceased  crying,  and  I had  almost  given  him  up  when 
he  reappeared  sitting  on  the  path  below.  When  he 
saw  me  coming  he  grinned,  ran  down  the  path  a little  w'ay, 
I after  him,  and  then  sat  up  again,  waiting  ; when  I came 
to  him  he  climbed  up  my  leg  and  seemed  pleased  to  be 
back.  I don’t  think  that  he  liked  that  five  minutes  at 
home,  for  it  was  raining  hard  at  the  time  and  he  hated 
rain.  Whether  it  was  a momentary  twinge  of  home- 
sickness or  a joke  he  was  unable  to  tell  me,  but  he  never 
ran  away  again.  We  passed  many  more  discarded 
pack-saddles  on  this  march. 

September  21st. — Minimum  62*7°  F.  It  rained 
steadily  all  night  and  continued  most  of  the  day,  the 
longest  and  most  trying  march  we  had  yet  done,  ten 
hours  in  the  sodden  jungle. 

First  we  continued  the  descent  of  the  previous  evening, 
crossed  a big  torrent,  and  traversed  for  some  distance, 
winding  our  way  round  gully  after  gully.  The  whole 
region  was  a perfect  maze  of  mountains,  cut  up  by 
hundreds  of  streams  flowing  deep  in  their  jungle-hidden 
ravines,  and  the  road  was  marked  by  the  skeletons  of 
mules  and  broken  pack-saddles.  All  the  time  we  were 
squelching  ankle-deep  in  mud,  tortured  by  leeches 
which  dropped  on  us  from  the  trees. 

My  feet  and  ankles  were  now  covered  with  dreadful 
sores  brought  on  by  being  always  wet,  and  the  bites  of 
leeches  which  easily  got  through  my  worn-out  boots. 
Every  night  the  continuous  irritation  would  awaken 


A DESrEEATE  MARCH  21 1 

me,  or  even  prevent  me  getting  any  sleep  at  all 
sometimes. 

A long  climb  brought  us  to  the  top  of  a ridge,  and  this 
we  followed  up  and  down  for  mile  on  mile.  A gleam  of 
sunshine  at  one  o’clock  was  a false  alarm,  but  another 
gleam  about  four  proved  less  fleeting.  At  five,  when  I 
was  tramping  along  mechanically,  noticing  little,  I saw 
something  better  than  sunshine,  for  the  white  mist 
between  the  trees  suddenly  gave  place  to  a deep  indigo 
blueness,  and  I knew  what  that  meant — it  was  the 
blueness  of  distant  mountains.  The  plains  at  last ! I 
thought.  At  the  same  moment  we  began  to  descend 
into  a deep  valley,  and  presently  the  fretted  mountains 
on  either  side  of  the  ridge  showed  up  momentarily 
through  the  changeful  mists ; far  below  we  distinctly 
heard  above  the  patter  of  raindrops  the  unmistakable 
chatter  of  a river. 

It  was  now  getting  late  and  wre  raced  down  the 
almost  precipitous  path  as  fast  as  we  could  go.  Down, 
down,  several  thousand  feet,  till  the  whir  of  cicadas 
filled  the  air  again,  and  it  grew  perceptibly  warmer.  At 
last  we  could  see  the  valley  below  us,  and  at  six-thirty 
we  reached  a considerable  river,  the  Shang  w'ang,  a 
tributary  of  the  Nam  Tisang,  which  flows  into  the  Mali. 

Crossing  by  a bamboo  trestle  bridge,  we  reached  a 
small  hut  at  dark,  built  by  the  expedition  in  the  previous 
year.  Never  had  I been  so  tired  as  I wras  that  night. 
Next  day  I anticipated  an  easy  walk  down  the  river 
valley  to  the  plains. 

September  22nd. — Minimum  67*2°  F.  It  was  very 
close  down  here  and  I slept  badly  in  consequence  of 
the  sudden  change  and  on  account  of  the  sand-flies. 

We  started  late,  and  immediately  faced  a mountain 


2i2  A DESPERATE  MARCH 

once  more.  There  was  no  easy  march  down  the  valley 
after  all ! 

Showers  fell  throughout  the  day,  the  clouds  moving 
up  and  down  rhythmically.  First  the  clouds  would  be 
lying  down  in  the  valleys,  where  it  was  raining,  though 
we,  high  up,  could  see  blue  sky  overhead ; then  they 
would  start  climbing  up,  and  we  would  get  glimpses 
into  the  valley  below.  Presently,  having  concentrated 
their  forces  against  the  mountain-tops,  they  would  drip 
rain  for  an  hour,  and  having  exhausted  themselves,  sink 
back  wearily  into  the  valleys  again,  leaving  the  wan  sun 
to  warm  us.  And  this  performance  would  be  repeated 
again  and  again. 

The  long  climb  up  the  steep  spur  was  wearying,  and 
I was  nearly  exhausted  before  we  reached  the  summit. 
Happily  I found  hidden  away  in  my  box  a packet  of 
crystalline  jelly,  such  as  cooks  use  for  mixing  with 
boiling  water  to  make  ordinary  jelly,  which  I ate 
greedily. 

At  three  we  began  to  descend,  and  just  afterwards 
the  leading  men  stopped  on  the  edge  of  a cliff,  where 
the  trees  had  fallen  away,  and  pointed  dramatically. 

A thousand  feet  below,  seen  through  a mist  of  rain, 
were  the  roofs  of  a frontier  fort ! 

Joyfully  we  stumbled  down  the  path  in  the 
jungle,  passed  through  the  barbed  wire  and  found 
ourselves  inside  the  British  post  of  Kawnglu. 

Here  were  Gurkha  sepoys,  Babu  clerks  and — yes, 
a white  face  again ! 

How  they  stared  at  us  to  be  sure ; and  well  they 
might,  coming  unexpectedly  out  of  the  jungle  like  that, 
from  God  knew  where ! 

And  what  sights! — I with  a six  weeks’  growth  of 


A DESPERATE  MARCH  213 

beard,  dirty  and  haggard,  my  clothes  worn  out,  my 
boots  Happing,  my  hair  long,  the  men  soaked  to  the 
skin  and  covered  with  mud  ! 

Captain  Clive  greeted  me  heartily  and  sent  me  down 
to  the  bungalow,  where  I saw  Captain  (now  Major) 
Conry ; I had  met  him  only  eighteen  months  previously, 
but  he  did  not  know  me  ! 

Neither  officer  could  do  too  much  for  me.  They 
gave  me  a hot  bath  and  a shave,  clean  clothes,  and 
then  sat  me  down  to  a tea  I shall  remember  as  long  as 
I remember  my  travels.  How  I gulped  down  cup  after 
cup  of  tea,  and  made  inroads  on  the  ham,  poached 
eggs,  and  bread  and  butter ! It  was  weeks  since  I had 
had  a proper  meal. 

And  then  came  the  bombshell ! 

“Is  there  any  news?”  I asked  nonchalantly. 

I was  not  particularly  interested.  At  home  one 
rushes  for  the  morning  paper  at  breakfast,  but  it  is 
mere  habit;  deprived  of  daily  news,  one  soon  ceases  to 
worry.  It  is  like  giving  up  drink  or  smoking,  or  going 
without  little  luxuries  when  travelling — after  the  first 
week  you  find  they  were  only  luxuries,  and  don’t  miss 
them,  indeed  forget  all  about  them.  And  I have 
always  found  -when  going  for  months  without  news  of 
the  outside  world  that  it  went  on  just  the  same,  my 
not  knowing  did  not  seem  to  affect  it  much ; anyway  it 
never  stopped.  But  now 

“ You  know  about  the  war,  I suppose  ? ” said  Captain 
Conry. 

“The  war?  Not  China?  Or  do  you  mean  civil 
war  in  Ireland  at  last  ? ” 

“No,”  he  said,  staring;  “England,  France  and 
Russia  against  Germany  and  Austria ! ” 


CHAPTER  XIV 


INFINITE  TORMENT  OF  LEECHES 

IN  the  evening  we  sat  out  on  the  verandah  and 
talked.  My  hosts  brought  out  all  the  papers  they 
had,  which  were  not  many,  for  mails  took  three 
weeks  to  come  by  mule  from  Myitkyina,  and  during 
the  rains  often  did  not  come  at  all,  so  bad  was  the 
track ; but  for  a long  time  my  head  was  in  a whirl, 
and  I could  not  adjust  my  ideas  to  this  novel  perspective 
— war ! 

The  canard  of  the  North  Sea  fight  in  which  most  of 
the  German  navy  had  been  sunk  reached  even  to  this 
remote  outpost,  only  to  be  contradicted.  Already  the 
Russians,  according  to  our  newspapers,  had  captured 
the  entire  Austrian  army,  and  the  decisive  battle  was 
even  now  taking  place  in  France.  I wondered  vaguely 
if  I could  get  home  before  it  was  all  over,  and  mentally 
kicked  myself  for  coming  such  a long  way  round  when 
I might  have  gone  straight  down  to  Rangoon ! 

Kawnglu  fort  is,  like  Hpimaw  fort,  situated  on  the 
shoulder  of  a steep  spur.  It  was  impossible  on  account 
of  the  clouds  in  which  we  lived  at  this  altitude  (about 
6000  feet — that  is,  2000  feet  lower  than  at  Hpimaw)  to 
obtain  a comprehensive  view  of  the  surrounding  country; 
but  immediately  behind  us  rose  the  mountains,  densely 
clothed  with  thick  forest,  which  we  had  just  crossed, 
and  below  the  country  fell  away  rapidly  to  the  bottom 
valleys  and  foot-hills  bordering  the  plain,  which,  as  the 


214 


TORMENT  OF  LEECHES'  215 

crow  flies,  was  not  far  distant.  There  were  no  more 
mountains  between  us  and  Fort  Hertz,  six  marches 
away. 

Towards  sunset  a magnificent  sight,  marred  by  rather 
too  much  cloud,  burst  upon  us,  for  we  looked  right 
across  the  Hkamti  plain,  which  lay  invisible  in  white 
wrappings,  to  the  mountains  of  Assam,  standing  up 
clear  against  the  western  light;  and  northwards  to  the 
towering  snow-clad  peaks  of  the  Lohit  divide,  mysteri- 
ous Tibet ! In  the  growing  dusk  the  long  waves  of 
ghostly  vapour,  from  amongst  which  shot  up  into  the 
blue  haze  above,  lit  by  a crescent  moon,  the  flanking 
ranges  of  the  Himalaya  and  Tibet,  was  a sight  worth 
marching  all  those  miles  to  see ! 

Early  next  morning  too  the  mountains  were  visible 
above  an  ocean  of  cloud,  which  lay  heavily  over  the 
plain,  but  the  clouds  soon  rose  and  masked  everything. 

So  we  sat  talking  till  the  young  moon  set,  and  then 
I walked  down  the  hill  to  the  civil  officer’s  bungalow, 
where  I was  to  sleep,  he  being  away.  I should  probably 
meet  him  on  the  third  march  to  Fort  Hertz,  they  told 
me. 

I could  not  envy  those  two  officers  in  their  lonely 
fort,  much  as  I had  appreciated  what  seemed  the 
luxuries  they  had  placed  at  my  disposal  after  the  dis- 
comforts of  a long  march. 

They  lived  for  nine  months  of  the  year  buried  in 
cloud,  surrounded  by  jungles  in  which  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  dismal  drip  of  the  rain.  What  a relief 
it  must  have  been  to  go  off  to  the  Ahkyang  for  a month 
on  escort  duty,  as  they  did  occasionally,  or  down  to 
Fort  Hertz,  where  at  .least  there  were  four  more  white 
men ! 


2 1 6 INFINITE  TORMENT 

But  they  stood  it,  though  they  confessed  it  was 
dull. 

It  is  no  use  for  the  student  to  say : “ But  what  an 
opportunity  to  study  languages,  or  literature,  or  other 
academic  pursuit ! ” The  men  who  find  themselves 
in  such  places  are  just  the  men  who  cannot  readily 
do  these  things — energetic,  active,  high-spirited,  and 
adventurous.  What  have  they  to  do  with  scholar- 
ship? Nor  is  the  necessary  attitude  of  mind  to  be 
achieved  at  short  notice.  Most  men  do,  however, 
readjust  themselves  somewhat  to  the  altered  circum- 
stances— sufficiently  so  to  pass  an  examination  in  at 
least  one  of  the  local  dialects,  sooner  or  later. 

This  by  the  way.  The  lot  of  these  men  on  the 
extreme  fringe  of  the  Empire  is  often  cheerless 
enough,  and  at  this  time  it  seemed  doubly  hard  to 
be  chained  to  such  a spot.  But  as  Captain  Conry 
said : “ If  I cannot  go  myself.  I’ll  take  care  that  my 
Gurkhas,  who  have  volunteered  almost  to  a man,  know 
something  of  their  job!”  So  he  worked  them  night 
and  day,  sparing  neither  himself  nor  them,  night 
operations  being  a feature  of  their  training. 

September  2 yrd. — I was  awakened  by  the  calling 
of  gibbons  in  the  jungle,  and  having  packed,  sent  the 
porters  on  ahead  while  I had  breakfast  in  the  fort.  So 
loath  was  I to  tear  myself  away  from  the  hospitality 
extended  to  me  that  it  was  nearly  midday  before  I 
started. 

Descending  to  the  valley  below  by  a steep  path, 
I caught  up  the  porters,  who  had  not  hurried  them- 
selves, and  we  went  on  leisurely  through  the  jungle, 
by  a path  which  except  for  the  mud  was  easy  com- 
pared with  some  we  had  seen.  Passing  through  two 


A Duleng  Village  and  Shan  Giri.s,  Hkamii  Long. 

Long,  low,  grass-thatched  huts,  raised  on  piles  ; the  typical  hut  of  the  Kachin  tribes. 
The  sacrificial  stake  can  be  seen  on  the  left.  Photo  by  T.  Hare , Esq. 

Note  the  dainty  dress  of  these  civilized  folk.  Photo  by  P.  M.  R.  Leonard , Esq. 


OF  LEECHES  217 

Duleng  villages,  we  halted  at  a third  close  to  the 
Nam  Tisang,  a tributary  of  which,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, we  had  crossed  two  days  previously. 

The  Dulengs  are  a Kachin  tribe,  and  are  the  great 
iron-workers  of  this  country,  making  the  dabs  and 
spears  used  by  the  Shans,  C.hingpaws  and  others. 
The  iron  comes  from  mines  in  the  Kachin  country 
to  the  south,  between  the  Mali  and  ’Nmai  rivers. 

Their  huts  are  similar  to  those  of  the  Marus,  built 
on  piles  and  thatched  with  leaves  of  the  fan  palm; 
but  the  front  porch,  instead  of  being  fenced  round,  is 
open.  The  great  central  pillar  in  the  porch  of  the 
Kachin  hut,  whether  Maru,  Duleng  or  Chingpaw, 
is  as  it  were  the  corner-stone  of  the  building,  a fowl 
or  pig  being  killed  when  it  is  erected.  On  it  are 
hung  the  skulls  of  sacrificed  animals,  mithan  or 
buffalo. 

The  Dulengs,  both  men  and  women,  tie  the  hair 
in  a knot  on  top  of  the  head,  and  wear  a coloured 
handkerchief  over  it.  The  only  garment  worn  is  a 
lone-gyi , or  skirt,  usually  dark  blue  striped  with  dull 
red,  and  fastened  rather  above  the  waist.  In  place 
of  a jacket  the  women  wear  coils  of  black  rattan 
wire  round  the  breasts,  drawing  attention  to  rather 
than  modestly  concealing  them.  Indeed  they  have 
rather  fine  figures  these  Duleng  women,  being  bigger 
than  the  Marus,  and  well  made;  but  their  looks 
are  nothing  to  boast  of.  Very  few  beads  or  cowries 
are  worn — a great  contrast  to  the  Marus — and  practic- 
ally no  other  ornaments;  a roll  of  paper  or  a bamboo 
tube  is  thrust  through  the  large  hole  bored  in  the 
lower  lobe  of  the  ear,  a few  rattan  rings  passed  round 
the  calf  below  the  knee,  and  that  is  all. 


2 1 8 INFINITE  TORMENT 

It  was  hot  and  muggy  in  the  valley,  for  after 
heavy  rain  about  ten  it  cleared  up,  the  sun  shining  out 
and  the  storm  passing  up  into  the  mountains,  though 
we  were  treated  to  showers  again  in  the  afternoon. 

The  vegetation  now  took  on  a more  tropical  appear- 
ance. There  were  many  palms,  including  sago,  rattans 
or  climbing  palm,  a species  of  Nipa  by  the  river  and 
a tall,  fan-leafed  Borassus  or  cabbage  palm,  Selangi- 
nella,  including  a tall,  erect  species,  and  hundreds 
of  bird’s-nest  ferns ; one  tree  supporting  a whole 
series  from  base  to  summit,  so  that  the  rosettes  of 
foliage  seemed  to  belong  rather  to  the  tree  itself. 

Later,  in  the  more  open  country,  we  found  the 
villages  sheltered  beneath  fine  clumps  of  bamboo 
growing  sixty  feet  high.  There  were  sacred  nat  trees 
too,  generally  figs,  with  matted,  snaky  roots,  the 
far-spreading  branches  supported  by  thin  pillars  taut 
as  steel  rods,  beneath  which  stood  little  bamboo  tables 
with  food  offerings  to  the  nats.  But  of  flowers  there 
were  none,  save  here  and  there  a white  convolvulus 
and  the  usual,  or  often  unusual  (for  every  district  seems 
to  harbour  new  species),  gaudy  balsams.  Strange, 
therefore,  that  there  should  be  so  many  butterflies ; 
but  indeed  they  seemed  to  live  on  filth  rather  than 
on  nectar. 

September  2 \th . — Minimum  69*2°  F.  The  Maru 
porters  turned  back  from  here  as  they  did  not  wish 
to  go  to  Fort  Hertz.  This  caused  a delay,  as  new 
ones  had  to  be  found  to  replace  them,  and  we  did 
not  start  till  ten,  crossing  the  Nam  Tisang,  a broad, 
swift  stream,  in  dug-outs.  The  water  was  several 
feet  below  its  highest  flood-level,  as  indicated  by 
the  bedraggled  vegetation,  covered  with  flotsam,  w'hich 


OF  LEECHES  219 

grew  thinly  on  the  sand-banks.  In  many  places  these 
sand-banks  were  deeply  trenched  by  rain  channels 
where  the  water  had  poured  down  from  the  steep 
slopes  above.  On  the  far  side  the  sand  had  been 
cut  up  by  the  rain  into  a curious  appearance  of  bas- 
relief,  due  to  rubbish  protecting  it  from  being  washed 
away,  leaving  imprints  of  leaves,  often  perfect,  standing 
up  as  much  as  two  inches  above  the  general  level 
of  the  sand.  The  granite  of  the  mountains  had 
given  place  to  laterite,  which  had  been  pounded  into 
a sticky  clay,  retarding  us  considerably;  but  it  was 
a relief  having  no  mountains  to  climb,  the  path  crossing 
small  spurs  only. 

The  land  leeches,  however,  were  dreadful. 

These  little  fiends  are  about  an  inch  long  and, 
at  a full  stretch,  no  thicker  than  a knitting  needle. 
They  progress  similarly  to  a looper  caterpillar,  though 
they  are  not,  of  course,  provided  with  legs.  Fixing 
one  end,  which  is  expanded  into  a bell-shaped  sucker, 
the  leech  curves  itself  over  into  a complete  arch,  fixes 
the  other  extremity  in  the  same  way,  and  releasing 
the  rear  end,  advances  it  till  a close  loop  is  formed. 
The  process  is  then  repeated,  the  creature  advancing 
with  uncanny  swiftness  in  a series  of  loops.  From 
time  to  time  it  rears  itself  up  on  end  and  sways 
about,  swinging  slowly  round  in  larger  and  larger 
circles  as  it  seeks  blindly,  but  with  a keen  sense  of 
smell,  its  prey ; then  suddenly  doubling  itself  up  in 
a loop,  it  continues  the  advance  with  unerring  instinct. 
There  is  nothing  more  horribly  fascinating  than  to 
see  the  leaves  of  the  jungle  undergrowth,  during  the 
rains,  literally  shaking  under  the  motions  of  these 
slender,  bloodthirsty,  finger-like  creatures,  as  they 


220  INFINITE  TORMENT 

sway  and  swing,  then  start  looping  inevitably  towards 
you.  They  have  a trick,  too,  of  dropping  on  to  the 
traveller  from  above  into  his  hair  and  ears,  or  down 
his  neck.  Cooper  1 says  there  are  three  kinds  of 
leeches  in  Assam,  including  the  red  or  hill  leech, 
and  the  hair  leech.  I do  not  recollect  coming  across 
either  of  these  last  two  on  the  North-East  Frontier, 
but  I have  no  doubt  that  if  they  are  found  in  Assam 
they  are  also  found  in  the  Burmese  hinterland. 

Poor  little  Maru  suffered  most  of  all.  I halted 
continuously  to  relieve  him,  on  one  occasion  pulling 
six  off  his  gums,  two  from  each  nostril,  several  from 
inside  his  eyelids,  and  others  from  his  belly,  neck, 
flanks,  and  from  between  his  toes.  Sometimes  his 

white  coat  was  red  with  blood,  or  rather  with  a 

mixture  of  blood  and  mud. 

As  for  me,  leeches  entered  literally  every  orifice 
except  my  mouth,  and  I became  so  accustomed  to 
the  little  cutting  bite,  like  the  caress  of  a razor, 
that  I scarcely  noticed  it  at  the  time.  On  two 
occasions  leeches  obtained  such  strategic  positions 
that  I only  noticed  them  just  in  time  to  prevent 
very  serious,  if  not  fatal,  consequences.  I also 
ran  them  down  in  my  hair,  under  my  armpits, 

inside  my  ears  — in  fact  everywhere.  My  feet 

and  ankles  were  by  this  time  covered  with  the 
most  dreadful  sores,  the  scars  of  which  I carry  to 
this  day. 

At  the  village  where  we  halted  I bought  a few  eggs, 
a pumpkin  and  some  cucumbers,  and  the  duwa  gave  me 
a fowl,  for  which  I paid  him  eight  annas.  The  after- 
noon and  evening  were  quite  fine,  but  I was  too  tired 
1 The  Mishmee  Hills , by  T.  T.  Cooper. 


22  I 


OF  LEECHES 

to  do  any  work,  and  lay  down,  though  jungle  fowl  were 
calling  from  the  thickets.  At  dusk  I heard  the  low, 
plaintive  cry  of  a nightjar. 

September  2$tb. — Minimum  69-1  ° F.  An  easy  up-and- 
down  march,  the  country  much  more  open  than  hitherto, 
covered  with  tall  grass  twelve  feet  high  and  thickets 
of  scrub.  There  was  little  jungle,  and  in  consequence 
fewer  leeches,  though  the  path  was  as  muddy  and 
slippery  as  usual.  Weather  showery  and  close,  the 
rain  driving  the  sand-flies  into  the  huts  at  night  and 
making  life  miserable. 

In  the  afternoon  we  crossed  a fair-sized  stream,  the 
Ta  hka,  another  tributary  of  the  Nam  Tisang,  by  canoe, 
to  the  village  of  Kumlao.  Just  here  the  scenery  was 
very  pretty,  several  villages  half  hidden  amongst  palms 
and  clumps  of  bamboo  being  scattered  along  the  gently 
sloping  grassy  banks  of  the  river,  where  homely 
buffaloes  grazed.  I had  expected  to  meet  Mr  Barnard,1 
the  Civil  Officer  of  Kawnglu,  here,  but  to  my  disappoint- 
ment there  was  no  sign  of  him. 

As  soon  as  I got  in  I helped  myself  to  a packet  of 
fermenting  rice  tied  up  in  a banana  leaf — there  was  a 
tub  full  of  them  in  the  hut — and  ate  it.  The  curious, 
sticky  mass  with  its  musty  alcoholic  flavour  restored  me, 
but  at  the  end  of  my  diary  for  the  day  I find  this  entry  : 
“ It  will  be  a struggle  to  get  through,  but  I am  at  least 
sleeping  fairly  well.” 

September  26th. — Minimum  70*8°  F.  The  entry  in 
my  diary  at  seven-thirty  a.m.  is : 

“ Pouring  rain  in  the  night  and  still  continues.  This 
will  make  the  path  terrible  for  our  last  march  before 

1 Mr  J.  T.  O.  Barnard,  C.I.E.,  now  Deputy  Commissioner,  Fort 
Hertz. 


222  INFINITE  TORMENT 

the  plain  is  reached ; I scarcely  feel  as  though  I could 
do  it.” 

It  rained  all  day,  and  not  caring  to  halt  in  such 
weather,  we  marched  steadily  from  nine-fifteen  a.m.  till 
four-fifteen  p.m. 

Just  above  the  village  we  came  upon  a magnificent 
clump  of  bamboos,  about  sixty  feet  high,  the  largest  of 
them  eighteen  inches  in  girth  at  a height  of  two  feet 
from  the  ground.  There  were  nearly  a hundred  stems 
in  the  clump,  springing  up  close  together  and  gradu- 
ally spreading  out  above  till  they  finally  drooped  over 
in  graceful  Prince  of  Wales’  feathers. 

This  was  our  last  hilly  march ; we  even  crossed  a 
watershed,  but  the  ascent  was  so  gradual  that  we 
scarcely  noticed  it,  though  the  descent  was  steeper 
and  more  continuous.  Down,  down,  down  to  the  plains, 
crossing  torrent  after  torrent  of  chocolate-red  frothing 
water,  now  knee-deep,  now  waist-deep,  till  once  I was 
nearly  swept  off  my  feet. 

The  climax  in  leeches  was  reached  this  day.  From 
all  directions  they  seemed  to  be  looping  inevitably 
towards  us.  Every  leaf  of  every  tree  seemed  to 
harbour  one  of  those  blind  mouths,  standing  on  end  and 
at  full  stretch  feeling  for  its  victim;  they  lurked  in 
streams,  on  the  trees  overhead  and  amongst  the  under- 
growth, and  took  their  toll  in  blood. 

The  easiest  way  to  get  rid  of  a leech  is  to  drop  salt 
on  it ; the  pressure  set  up  through  its  porous  skin  soon 
sucks  it  inside  out  practically. 

But  one  does  not  as  a rule  carry  a salt-cellar  in  one’s 
pocket. 

The  natives,  bare  from  the  soles  of  their  feet  to  half- 
way up  their  thighs,  and  from  the  crowns  of  their  heads 


OF  LEECHES  223 

to  their  waists,  were  better  off  than  I was.  For  they 
could  get  at  their  tormentors  immediately,  and  perceive 
them  before  they  did  much  harm.  You  would  see  one 
stop,  draw  his  dab  and  shave  the  blood-sucker  off  his 
leg  as  with  a razor;  or  seat  himself  and  deliberately 
spit  betel  he  had  been  chewing  on  to  it,  which  was 
almost  as  effective  as  salt  in  making  him  relax  his 
hold. 

But  for  poor  little  Maru  there  was  no  cure,  save  that 
of  stopping  to  pick  them  off  from  time  to  time.  Even 
the  baboon,  who  had  lain  rather  pianissimo  the  last  few 
days,  was  troubled,  though  he  took  care  never  to  walk. 

Presently  we  emerged  from  the  jungle  on  to  another 
grassy  knoll,  where  stood  some  huts,  and  there  before 
us  fluttering  in  the  breeze  was  a small  Union  Jack ! 
How  I blessed  that  flag ! 

While  I was  changing  my  sodden  clothes  Mr  J.  T.  O. 
Barnard,  whose  name  and  fame  are  written  across 
the  North-East  Frontier  from  the  Hukong  valley  to 
the  Ahkyang,  came  over  from  the  hut  where  he  was 
inquiring  into  village  cases,  and  invited  me  over  to  a 
substantial  tea,  to  which  I did  full  justice. 

Mr  Barnard  was  on  his  way  to  Fort  Hertz,  and 
luckily  had  halted  here  for  a day,  enabling  me  to  over- 
take him;  otherwise  I sometimes  wonder  whether, 
without  the  food  he  gave  me,  I should  have  been  able 
to  struggle  over  the  last  two  marches. 

September  iyth. — Minimum  70*8°  F.  I got  up  while 
it  was  dark  as  the  sand-flies  were  giving  me  a bad  time 
and  went  across  to  Barnard’s  hut  for  breakfast. 

Maru  had  not  turned  up  the  previous  night,  and 
though  I had  sent  a man  back  to  look  for  him,  no  trace 
of  the  poor  little  pup  could  be  found.  As  he  had  not 


224  INFINITE  TORMENT 

arrived  when  we  started  at  eight  o’clock,  I asked  Barnard 
to  tell  the  village  headman  to  look  out  for  him.  He 
turned  up  all  right,  and  Barnard  found  him  in  the 
village  on  his  way  back  to  Kawnglu,  and  took  him  along 
with  him.  He  was  quite  well  apparently,  but  died 
suddenly  on  the  march  a few  days  later. 

Thus  passed  away  my  brave  little  pup,  who  had  never 
uttered  a sound  of  complaint  all  through  the  long  march, 
in  spite  of  manifold  discomforts.  I was  sorry  he  had 
come  so  near  Fort  Hertz  only  to  be  lost  at  the  last 
moment. 

We  were  still  in  the  jungle,  but  it  was  thinning  out. 
We  passed  numbers  of  magnificent  Ficus  trees,  and 
ferrying  across  the  Ti  hka,  a considerable  stream  flowing 
direct  to  the  Mali  hka,  reached  the  last  Duleng  village, 
situated  on  a broad,  grassy  mound.  Outside  their  long, 
low  huts  women  sat  on  the  ground  weaving  cloth,  the 
warp  stretched  over  the  toes  and  kept  taut  by  a band 
passing  round  the  wraist.  Others  were  winnowing  rice 
with  large  fans  made  of  palm  leaf,  or  stamping  paddy 
in  wooden  mortars. 

We  sat  down  on  the  knoll  for  a rest;  and  there  just 
below  us  spread  the  broad,  fiat  valley  of  the  Mali  hka, 
the  plains  at  last,  covered  with  palm-trees  as  it  seemed 
in  the  mist.  Here  and  there  a low  mound  stuck  up  out 
of  the  grey-green  sea,  otherwise  the  valley  spread  away 
level  to  the  horizon. 

Then  we  plunged  knee-deep  into  a stream,  and 
following  it  up  for  a mile,  tramped  through  mud  to  the 
last  low  pass. 

A gibbon  leaped  lightly  across  the  path,  but  I scarcely 
noticed  him ; a gay  Kaleage  pheasant  ran  into  a thicket, 
but  I would  not  be  beguiled.  We  slipped  and  slithered 


<■* 


Photo  by] 

A Duleng  Girl  Ginning  Cotton. 

The  seeds  are  passed  between  wooden  rollers,  which  take  off  the  cotton  hair  and  leave  the  seeds. 


[7\  Hare , Esq. 


OF  LEECHES  225 

down  the  slope,  past  a few  paddy-fields,  and  quite 
suddenly  emerged  on  to  the  bank  of  a big  river. 

It  was  the  Mali  hka ! 

The  western  branch  of  the  Irrawaddy  is  here,  150 
miles  above  the  confluence,  a fine  river  in  full  flood, 
about  200  yards  in  breadth,  running  swiftly  but 
smoothly  in  mid-stream.  The  water  was  a dull 
greyish-brown  in  colour,  carrying  much  mud,  tempera- 
ture 6 9’8°  F.,  or  6 ‘6°  warmer  than  the  ’Nmai  hka! 

Ferrying  across  in  canoes,  we  reached  the  Shan 
village  of  Nong-hkai  on  the  edge  of  the  plain,  about 
1200  feet  above  sea-level,  and  found  everything 
suddenly  changed — vegetation,  crops,  people. 

September  28 th. — Minimum  71*3°  F.  A fine  drizzle 
was  falling  when  we  got  up  in  the  dark  at  four-thirty 
for  the  last  march,  hoping  to  arrive  for  ten  o’clock 
breakfast. 

Starting  at  six  in  dismal  weather,  we  splashed 
through  mud,  waded  streams,  lost  our  way  in  the 
paddy-fields,  and  presently  found  ourselves  in  the 
large  village  of  Langtao.  Yellow-robed  priests  were 
just  starting  out  in  procession  with  begging  bowls 
to  collect  the  day’s  food  from  the  pious  Buddhist 
villagers,  and  thq  sweet-toned  notes  of  a Burmese 
spinning  gong,  carried  by  a small  acolyte,  vibrated 
through  the  air.  Close  by  stood  a row  of  Shan 
women.  Their  dress — a long,  close-fitting  blue  lone-gyi 
and  jacket  trimmed  with  red,  with  glossy  black  hair 
piled  up  on  top  of  the  head — was  most  picturesque. 
As  the  silent  procession  passed,  with  downcast  eyes, 
they  emptied  their  offerings  of  boiled  rice  from  the 
leaves  they  carried  into  the  bowls. 

It  almost  gave  one  a shock  to  see  that  some  of  the 


226  INFINITE  TORMENT 

black  piles  of  hair  were  fastened  on  heads  covered 
with  white  hair!  Well,  there  was  no  deception; 
they  were  quite  frank  about  it. 

And  now  the  long  tramp  of  twelve  miles  across  the 
plain  which  was  something  like  Wicken  Fen  without 
the  flowers,  and  is  evidently  an  ancient  lake  bed. 

Several  very  prominent  river  terraces,  one  of  which 
is  about  eighty  feet  high,  traverse  the  plain  in  various 
directions.  Away  to  the  east,  eight  miles  distant, 
flows  the  Mali  hka,  but  the  whole  horizon  was 
wrapped  in  cloud,  and  nothing  but  the  pale  outline 
of  mountains  was  visible. 

It  was  a cold,  cheerless  tramp.  We  were  soaked 
to  the  skin,  and  I lagged  behind  dreadfully.  But 
about  half-way  we  met  two  natives  leading  a pony 
for  Barnard  and  a mule  for  me,  sent  out  for  us  with 
a note  of  welcome  from  the  Deputy  Commissioner, 
and  now  we  got  along  faster. 

Floundering  across  streams,  up  to  the  girths  in 
mud  and  water,  we  at  length  saw  the  ridge  on  which 
Fort  Hertz  is  built.  Now  we  reached  a village,  and 
had  to  wade  across  a considerably  swollen  stream, 
beyond  which  we  caught  sight  of  the  Union  Jack 
flying  outside  the  Deputy  Commissioner’s  bungalow. 
Climbing  the  steep  side  of  the  terrace  overlooking  the 
paddy-land,  we  dismounted  at  Fort  Hertz. 

We  were  welcomed  by  Mr  W.  A.  Hertz,  C.S.I., 
the  Deputy  Commissioner,  whose  guest  I became  from 
that  moment  for  two  months,  and  after  a clean  up 
and  change  I sat  down  to  a sumptuous  breakfast, 
followed  about  an  hour  later,  for  we  arrived  late,  by 
an  equally  sumptuous  tea. 

In  the  evening  Hertz  gave  a station  dinner,  and  we 


OF  LEECHES  227 

foregathered  five  strong — Hertz,  Barnard,  Captain 
Burd  the  Battalion  Commandant,  Dr  Brooks,  the  Civil 
Surgeon,  and  myself. 

We  heard  little  war  news,  for  the  telegraph  line 
had  been  destroyed — not  by  the  Germans,  but  by  the 
weather.  We  learnt,  however,  that  the  great  blockade 
had  begun,  and  that  a censorship  of  unprecedented 
discretion  was  being  maintained. 

And  yet  I suppose  we  five  Britons,  on  that  wet 
September  night  in  the  remotest  post  on  the  Burma 
frontier,  knew  as  much  of  what  was  going  on  as  the 
fighting  men  in  France.  The  difficulty  was  to  visualise 
the  great  change  that  had  come,  and  was  to  come, 
over  the  world  we  knew. 

September  2qth. — Minimum  69*9°  F.,  Maximum  83 *2° 
F.  There  is  one  entry  in  my  diary  under  this  date. 
“ Fever  to-day.  Temperature  in  middle  of  day  103*2°. 
After  tea  I went  to  bed  under  the  doctor’s  orders.” 

Except  for  a few  desultory  pages,  written  at  odd 
moments  during  convalescence,  there  is  no  further 
entry  in  my  diary  till  22nd  November. 

I was  ill  for  six  weeks,  during  which  time  the 
Deputy  Commissioner  and  the  doctor  did  everything 
possible  for  me,  and  thanks  to  them  I was  able  to 
start  for  Myitkyina,  in  the  doctor’s  company,  on 
30th  November. 


1 


CHAPTER  XV 


THE  PLAINS 

THE  romantic  history  of  Hkamti  Long  may 
yet  be  outshone  by  its  future,  but  for  the 
moment  we  are  concerned  rather  with  the 

past. 

Briefly,  Hkamti  Long 1 is  a mountain-girt  plain, 
1200  miles  up  the  Irrawaddy,  yet  only  1200  feet 
above  sea-level.  It  lies  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Mali  hka  (or  western  branch  of  the  Irrawaddy),  and 
covers  an  area  of  nearly  300  square  miles — 35  miles 
from  north  to  south  by  10  from  east  to  west,  at  its 
longest  and  broadest.  The  greater  part  of  the  plain 
is  covered  with  tall  grass  and  scrub,  or  with  jungle, 
only  the  northern  end  being  cultivated. 

At  the  extreme  end  of  a tongue-shaped  terrace 
which  juts  out  northwards  into  the  plain  from  the 
western  foot-hills,  and  drops  steeply  to  a small  river 
flowing  sixty  feet  below,  stands  the  British  post  of 
Fort  Hertz.  The  Shan  village  of  Putao  (from  which 
the  post  formerly  took  its  name)  is  two  miles  away 
to  the  north,  on  the  flat  paddy-land  by  the  Nam  Palak. 

This  terrace,  or  natural  embankment,  is  about 
600  yards  wide,  and  across  the  tongue  tip,  where 
stand  the  military  police  lines,  is  a deep  dyke  and 
rampart,  long  since  overgrown  with  thick  jungle.  To 

1 Hkamti  Long,  the  Shan  name  for  the  plain,  means  literally  Great 
Gold  Land. 


228 


THE  PLAINS  229 

the  south  beyond  the  court-house,  where  the  terrace 
is  smothered  beneath  high  grass  and  jungle,  are  many 
grave  mounds. 

Mark  then  this  dyke,  at  the  end  of  the  terrace,  and 
these  graves  in  ominous  array ; for  it  may  be  that  the 
terrace,  deserted  when  the  British  first  came  to  Putao, 
had  its  defenders  in  the  great  days  of  the  Shan 
invasion. 

The  northern  end  of  the  plain,  beyond  the  post,  is 
cultivated,  and  there  is  much  grassland  where  herds 
of  cattle  and  buffalo  graze  between  swift-flowing 
streams.  Hedges  of  orange-flowered  Lantana,  prickly 
Euphorbia  and  golden  sunflowers  envelop  the  villages, 
which  are  full  of  trees  such  as  sacred  peepuls,  sago 
palms,  cabbage  palms,  lemon-trees  and  pumelos,  with 
clumps  of  bamboo  and  patches  of  banana,  from 
amongst  which  peep  grass-thatched  huts. 

To  the  south  stretches  a broad  plateau  some  fifty  or 
sixty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  paddy-land,  covered 
with  high  grass  and  scattered  shrubs,  flanked  by  jungle. 

Standing  aloof  down  in  the  paddy-fields  like  derelicts 
are  clusters  of  ancient  bell-shaped  pagodas,  made  of 
sun-dried  brick.  Now  they  are  overgrown  with  flowers 
and  bushes,  and  are  fast  falling  to  ruin. 

There  is  perhaps  no  more  lovely  experience  on  earth 
than  to  awaken  slowly  to  life  after  a long  illness,  much 
of  which  was  a dark  blank,  with  vague  shadows  projected 
on  it  from  time  to  time;  to  see  again  the  blue  sky 
overhead,  the  golden  paddy-fields,  green  forests  and 
distant  snow-clad  mountains ; to  wake  in  the  radiant 
dawn  at  the  cry  of  gibbons  shrilly  calling  from  the 
jungle,  when  the  mist  hangs  over  the  river  and  the  first 
rays  of  the  rising  sun  are  sparkling  across  the  blue 


2 30  THE  PLAINS 

mountain-tops ; to  hear  the  birds  whistling  and  trill- 
ing and  the  silver-throated  gong  vibrating  in  the 
monastery.  A vast  peace  seems  to  have  enfolded  the 
whole  world  in  its  embrace.  You  tread  on  air  with 
winged  feet,  and  sing,  nay  shout,  for  the  very  joy  of 
living.  Every  leaf  and  flower,  every  bird  and  beast, 
every  cloud  in  the  sky,  is  revealed  as  an  object  of 
beauty,  welling  life  and  love.  Happy  the  man  to  whom 
such  revelation  is  permitted. 

Therefore  shall  I ever  remember  with  gratitude 
those  convalescent  days  at  the  end  of  November  in 
Fort  Hertz,  when,  having  emerged  from  the  Valley  of 
Death,  I walked  a little  farther,  and  grew  a little 
stronger  each  day. 

From  the  apex  of  the  tongue,  beyond  the  military 
police  lines,  where,  as  stated,  the  ridge  falls  steeply  to 
the  plain,  you  look  northwards  across  a fertile  country 
dotted  with  clumps  of  slender  palms  spreading  out  their 
great  fan-shaped  leaves,  and  of  graceful  bamboos, 
clasped  by  a semicircle  of  mountains.  Immediately 
to  east  and  west  rise  high  parallel  ranges,  ridge 
beyond  ridge,  all  cut  up  and  smoothed  off  by  flowing 
water,  and  covered  with  green  jungle,  looking  in  the 
distance  like  velvet;  at  their  feet  nestle  low  rolling 
hills  merging  into  the  plain.  But  straight  ahead, 
beyond  the  sparkling  Nam  Palak,  which  winds  at  our 
feet,  beyond  the  thatched  spire  of  the  village  monastery, 
beyond  the  betel  palms  and  sacred  fig-trees,  and  the 
grey-green  middle  distance,  there  lifts  itself  up  proudly 
above  the  early  morning  mists  the  sentinel  range  of 
Tibet,  all  white  with  snow.  That  graceful,  rounded 
peak  visible  in  the  north-east,  called  Noi  Matoi,  is  over 
15,000  feet. 


THE  PLAINS  231 

At  sunset  jungle  and  grassland  are  straightway 
drenched  with  dew.  The  tops  of  the  eastern  ranges 
turn  crimson,  changing  to  violet  in  the  shadow  below, 
but  the  snows  of  the  Tibet  frontier  still  gleam  in  the 
gathering  darkness. 

Out  of  the  dusk  a bat  flits  into  the  luminous  western 
sky  like  an  evil  spirit,  and  a moment  later  is  swallowed 
up  in  the  gloom.  An  owl  follows,  flapping  noiselessly 
across  the  compound,  and  is  lost  amongst  the  trees. 
A fire-fly  glimmers  for  a minute  and  is  gone ; then  one 
by  one  the  stars  peer  down  on  us  from  the  darkening 
sky. 

So  creatures  dimly  seen  pass  and  repass  before  us  as 
we  watch,  presently  to  go  out  of  our  lives  into  the 
mysterious  beyond  whence  they  started.  Night  has 
come. 

At  dawn  long  silver  threads  and  whisps  of  cloud 
press  closely  against  the  blue  mountain-tops,  which 
appear  floating  on  an  ocean  of  milk-white  mist. 
Presently  the  sun,  rushing  up,  begins  to  break  through, 
and  the  drenched  grass  sparkles  with  diamond  dew- 
drops.  Now  gibbons  begin  to  hoot  in  the  hills,  and 
their  glad  voice  is  taken  up  by  all  the  birds  of  the 
forest,  warbling  their  praise  at  the  coming  of  another 
day. 

It  is  impossible  to  walk  over  the  green  fields  by 
the  Nam  Palak  without  thinking  of  home.  Here  in 
the  ditches  are  familiar  catmint  and  buttercups,  in  the 
hedges  white  convolvulus  and  fragrant  oleaster;  there 
are  golden  cornfields  beyond — only  it  is  paddy,  and  the 
grazing  herd  whence  arises  the  ding-dong  of  bells 
happen  to  be  buffaloes. 

Nevertheless,  if  the  vision  of  England  is  dispelled  by 


232  THE  PLAINS 

the  sweet-scented  lemon-trees  laden  with  flowers  and 
fruit  at  the  same  time,  and  by  the  palms  and  clumps  of 
bamboo  outlined  against  the  evening  sky,  yet  we  might 
well  believe  ourselves  back  in  Burma — that  is  to  say, 
Burma  proper — 200  miles  south  of  where  we  stand. 

Here  in  the  midst  of  the  wilderness — for  similar 
country  to  that  which  we  have  just  crossed  lies  to 
north,  west  and  south,  and  must  be  traversed  ere 
we  shall  see  sunny  Burma  again — here  are  the  same 
people,  the  same  crops,  the  same  trees  and  flowers 
that  we  meet  with  on  the  banks  of  the  Irrawaddy 
below  the  confluence. 

Isolated,  surrounded  by  trackless  mountains  and  by 
wild  tribes — Hkanungs,  Hkakus,  Dulengs — this  outlier 
of  the  once  mighty  Tai  race  which  had  spread  from 
Tibet  to  the  China  Sea  and  founded  powerful  kingdoms 
in  Yun-nan,  Burma,  Assam  and  Siam,  the  last  of  which, 
shorn  of  power,  alone  survives  to-day,  lies  dying  at 
the  sources  of  the  western  Irrawaddy ! 

What  a pitiful  tragedy — to  have  journeyed  back  to 
die  near  the  old  home  their  ancesters  left  when 
they  went  forth  to  conquer  southern  Asia,  unknown 
centuries  ago ! 

For  the  Hkamtis  are  slowly  disappearing.  The 
strongest  long  ago  emigrated  to  Assam,  and  the 
degraded  remnant,  rotted  with  opium,  ruined  by  slave 
dealing,  preyed  upon  by  the  virile  Kachins,  are  dying 
out. 

How  is  it  that  they  have  not  long  ago  been 
blotted  off  the  plain  by  the  Kachins?  Because  they 
are,  in  the  language  of  the  hill-men,  “ the  fire  that 
keeps  the  Kachins  warm.”  In  other  words,  the  raiders 
batten  on  them.  Every  year  when  the  crops  are  ripe 


A Hammock  Bridge  and  The  Cane  Bridge  over  the  Ngawchang  River. 

The  bridge  is  made  entirely  of  climbing  palm  (rattan  cane),  and  is  slung  between  trees  on 
either  bank. 


THE  PLAINS  233 

the  poor  Kachins  come  down  from  their  hills  and  billet 
themselves  on  the  indolent  Shans  for  a month  or  two, 
and  eat  their  fill ; and  when  the  time  comes  for  them 
to  depart  they  take  with  them  a few  baskets  of  rice 
or  a few  pigs,  or  poultry  or  cattle,  even  a girl  or  two — 
anything,  in  fact,  for  which  they  have  a fancy. 

Between  host  and  parasite  the  utmost  friendliness 
prevails,  and  the  transactions  are  marked  by  profound 
peace,  for  though  the  Shans  loathe  the  Kachins,  their 
loathing  is  tempered  by  a wholesome  fear. 

In  return — for  the  transaction  is  not  entirely  one- 
sided, and,  to  borrow  a term  from  biology,  might  be 
cited  as  an  example  of  commensalism,  a living  together 
for  mutual  benefit — in  return  the  Kachins  assist  the 
Shans  in  their  eternal  intertribal  feuds. 

Thus  one  tribe  of  Kachins  will  be  parasitic  in  one 
Shan  state,  or  in  one  village,  another  tribe  in  another; 
and  if  those  states  or  villages  are  at  enmity,  as  is  often 
the  case,  the  parasitic  Kachins  espouse  the  cause  of 
their  respective  hosts,  and  fight  their  battles  for  them; 
which  is  as  bad  for  the  Kachins  as  it  is  for  the  Shans. 
But  perhaps  the  Kachins  do  not  really  fight  each  other 
— more  likely  each  party  in  turn  wreaks  venegance  on 
the  village  indicated  by  its  hosts,  so  that  everybody  is 
paid  full  value,  and  all  live  happily  ever  after — except 
the  Shans. 

They  are  a house  divided  against  itself,  and  in  this 
wise  cannot  stand. 

Since  the  British  came  to  Hkamti  Long  this  amiable 
relationship  has  ceased,  and  the  Kachin  is  no  longer 
permitted  to  act  in  a fiduciary  capacity  for  his  trusty 
Shans.  Slavery  has  also  been  gradually  abolished, 
and  the  isolation  of  the  Hkamtis  brought  to  an  end 


234  THE  PLAINS 

by  the  opening  of  a mule-road  between  the  railhead 
in  Upper  Burma  and  Hkamti  Long,  200  miles  distant. 
Thus  the  poorest  man  may  safely  travel  through  the 
Kachin  country  to  the  bazaars  of  Myitkyina,  without 
fear  of  being  captured  and  sold  into  slavery. 

It  is  a notable  fact  that  when  th£  British  came  to 
Putao  in  19 13- 19 14  one  Chinese  and  five  Indian  slaves 
were  found,  and  the  Chinese  muleteers  with  the  party 
at  once  clubbed  together  and  bought  out  their  fellow- 
countryman  ! 

There  is  more  glory  and  tragedy  in  the  age-long 
history  of  the  Tai  race  than  of  that  in  any  other  people 
of  south-east  Asia.  The  tale  of  their  migrations  and 
dissensions,  their  struggles  and  successes,  and  the  rise 
and  eclipse,  one  by  one,  of  the  great  kingdoms  they 
founded — Nan-chao  in  Yun-nan  (the  modern  Ta-li-fu), 
conquered  by  Kublai  Khan  in  the  thirteenth  century. 
Pong  bled  by  the  Burmans,  finally  conquered  and 
sacked  by  the  Kachins  as  recently  as  the  nineteenth 
century,  and  the  great  Ahom  power  in  Assam,  which 
after  six  centuries  of  rule,  waging  victorious  war 
against  the  Moguls  and  others,  was  ruined  by  civil 
war  and  finally  overthrown  by  the  Burmese,  in  whose 
train  followed  such  chaos  that  they  were  speedily 
replaced  by  the  neighbouring  British  power  in  India — 
all  this  seems  incredible  to  anyone  who  knows  only 
their  descendants  to-day.  For  the  peaceful,  kind- 
hearted  Shans  of  Upper  Burma  and  western  Yun-nan, 
the  indolent  Siamese  and  the  lazy,  opium-sodden 
Hkamtis  are  all  that  remain  of  the  once  merciless  and 
mighty  Tai ! 

The  Shans  came  to  Hkamti  via  the  Hukong  valley 
— that  is,  the  Upper  Chindwin — from  the  kingdom  of 


THE  PLAINS  235 

Pong,  which  is  the  Mogoung  district  of  Upper  Burma. 
They  found  the  fertile  plain  occupied  by  Tibetan  tribes,1 
and  after  their  struggles  in  the  jungle  they  were  sad. 
Then  their  leader  prayed  that  if  they  were  destined  to 
occupy  the  fertile  plain  they  had  found,  might  they  be 
given  a sign;  might  it  snow  heavily  on  the  mountains, 
and  block  all  the  passes,  so  that  no  help  could  reach 
the  trapped  inhabitants  of  the  plain.  And  it  snowed 
heavily,  and  blocked  the  passes,  and  the  Tibetans  were 
driven  back  and  slaughtered  by  the  Shans,  as  the 
numerous  grave  mounds  testify.2  (But  there  are  some 
who  say  that  these  mounds  date  from  a dreadful  pesti- 
lence and  famine  which  visited  the  plain.) 

This,  however,  is  legendary,  for  no  written  records 
of  Hkamti  Long  have  been  discovered.  If  there  is  any 
truth  in  the  story,  these  things  must  have  happened 
many  centuries  ago,  for  later  the  Kachins  (of  whom  no 
mention  is  made  in  the  legend)  grew  sufficiently  power- 
ful to  advance  in  turn  down  the  Hukong  valley  and 
threaten  the  kingdom  of  Pong.  But  the  latter,  grow- 
ing stronger  again,  drove  the  Kachins  back  eastwards 
towards  the  Mali  river,  though  not  far  enough  to 
re-establish  communication  with  their  brethren  on  the 
Hkamti  plain;  and  it  was  not  till  much  later  that  the 
Kachins  completed  the  ruin  of  exhausted  Pong.  The 
Kachins  who  were  driven  east  gave  origin  to  the  Lashis 
and  Marus  of  the  ’Nmai  valley. 

Thus  it  comes  about  that  we  find  this  outlier  of 
Shans  at  Hkamti  encysted  amongst  the  Kachin  tribes, 

1 There  are  still  a few  Tibetan  villages  in  British  territory  at  the 
sources  of  the  Irrawaddy. 

2 Mr  J.  T.  O.  Barnard,  however,  informs  me  that  the  snow  tradition 
is  of  much  more  ancient  origin. 


236  THE  PLAINS 

dwindling  in  numbers  as  the  latter  increase.  Isolated 
they  truly  were,  for  no  man  dared  leave  the  plain — did 
he  do  so,  he  was  soon  captured  and  sold  into  slavery 
by  the  Kachins. 

Even  after  their  isolation  the  best  of  the  Shans 
migrated,  for  it  seems  certain  that  the  people  who  came 
to  Assam  over  the  Patkoi  range  at  the  end  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  though  simply  referred  to  as 
Hkamtis,  were  Shans,  and  not  Tibetan  tribes. 

In  1794  these  people  took  Sadiya,  assisting  the  effete 
Ahom  dynasty  to  its  downfall;  and  in  1835  there  was 
a fresh  immigration  of  Hkamtis  into  Assam.  A few 
years  later,  being  dissatisfied  with  the  British,  who  had 
released  their  slaves,  they  rose  and  attacked  Sadiya 
again,  but  after  the  inevitable  humiliation  which  eventu- 
ally overtook  them  for  this  brief  triumph,  they  were 
scattered,  and  were  scarcely  prominent  in  Assam  again. 

Cooper,1  however,  writing  about  1870,  speaks  very 
highly  of  their  descendants  who,  living  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Sadiya,  formed  a screen  between  British 
territory  and  the  warlike  Mishmis. 

Those  who  were  left  behind,  the  weakest,  the  less 
enterprising,  the  most  contented,  are  to-day  the  sorry 
remnant  of  a people  who  fought  their  way  up  the 
Hukong  valley  to  the  open  plains  beyond. 

Such  in  brief  is  the  history  of  the  Hkamtis — what  is 
known  of  them. 

The  days  when  they  were  great  hunters  and  fighters 
are  gone,  never  to  return.  About  the  year  i860,  in 
an  evil  moment,  a Buddhist  priest  came  from  Burma 
and  converted  the  Shans  of  the  Hukong  valley  to 
Buddhism,  and  they  forsook  hunting  and  fighting, 
1 The  Misbmee  Hills , by  T.  T.  Cooper. 


THE  PLAINS  237 

being  forbidden  to  take  life;  and  the  Hkamti  Shans 
did  likewise. 

Therefore  we  find  many  pagodas,  all  overgrown  with 
trees,  at  Putao,  some  on  the  outskirts  of  the  villages, 
others  standing  aloof  in  the  paddy-fields. 

It  is  wonderful,  after  weeks  of  marching  in  the  dark, 
dismal  jungles,  hearing  nothing  but  the  roar  of  torrents 
and  the  everlasting  drip,  drip  of  the  rain,  to  emerge 
suddenly  on  to  the  broad  plain  and  hear  again  the 
silver-toned  gong  of  the  yellow-robed  priests. 

As  yet,  however,  the  Hkamtis  are  not  very 
thoroughly  converted.  True,  they  conform  outwardly 
to  the  doctrines  of  Buddhism — they  do  the  things 
which  those  who  believe  do,  and  leave  undone  some 
of  the  things  which  those  who  believe  do  not  do;  but 
deep  down  in  their  hearts  they  know  that  the  nats — 
the  invisible  spirits  of  the  mountain  and  forest — attend 
them  capriciously,  as  they  attended  their  grandfathers 
before  them.  They  practise  Buddhism;  but  they  do 
not  understand.  There  are  pagodas  and  chaungs — 
priests’  houses — in  the  peaceful  palm  groves,  where 
the  old  priests  still  teach  the  village  boys — not  howr  to 
succeed  in  the  difficult  battle  of  life,  but  the  doctrine 
from  the  Pali  script.  It  is  a beautiful  story ; but  it  is 
difficult,  and  the  Shans,  who  are  timid  children  of  the 
forest,  know  that  the  nats  still  live  in  the  old  grove 
where  the  snaky-rooted  Ficus  tree  stands,  and  in 
the  singing  stream  hard  by,  and  on  the  distant 
mountain. 

So  they  worship  the  Great  Sawbwa  mountain  and 
sacrifice  a buffalo  to  it  every  year,  and  even  when  dedi- 
cating a pagoda  the  ceremony  is  witnessed  by  such  nats 
as  We-Son-Vari,  the  nat  of  the  earth,  and  by  Ma-Da-Ri, 


238  THE  PLAINS 

the  nat  of  literature,  as  inscriptions  in  the  pagodas 
themselves  testify. 

But  the  blighting  influence  of  the  peaceful  Buddhist 
religion  has  done  its  work.  No  longer  able  to  hunt 
and  fight,  the  men  have  found  time  hang  heavily  on 
their  hands,  and  sitting  at  home  in  their  huts  watching 
the  guns  and  dahs  with  which  long  ago  their  ancestors 
performed  wondrous  feats  of  arms,  rusting  on  the 
walls,  they  have  found  refuge  in  opium. 

The  dress  of  the  Hkamti  Shans  differs  considerably 
from  that  of  the  southern  Shans  inhabiting  the  country 
round  Bhamo  and  Myitkyina,  as  well  as  the  Shan 
States  proper;  the  latter  have  been  influenced  by 
the  Burmans. 

In  the  early  morning,  to  the  throb  of  the  spinning 
gong,  a procession  of  yellow-robed  monks  and  boys, 
with  downcast  eyes  and  slow  step,  leaves  the  wee 
wooden  monastery,  and  starts  on  its  begging  tour 
through  the  village. 

Then  from  each  hut  emerge  the  pious  women  storing 
up  merit  with  their  offerings  of  rice,  which  they  tip 
silently  into  big  bowls  borne  by  small  boys.  We 
can  see  them  well  now — they  are  very  dainty,  in 
tight  skirt  of  dark  blue  cloth  relieved  with  a few 
stripes  of  red  or  brown,  reaching  to  the  bare  ankles, 
and  close-fitting,  short-sleeved  jacket.  Perhaps  they 
are  proud  of  their  neat  figures,  these  charming  little 
Shan  girls,  for  their  clothes  are  always  tight-fitting, 
and  the  trick  of  edging  the  trim  sleeves  of  their 
dark  coloured  jacket  with  brighter  red,  and  wearing 
a low  turban  of  white  or  scarlet,  draws  attention 
to  just  those  points  they  would  have  you  look  at. 
Often  a white  wrap  with  coloured  stripes  at  each 


THE  PLAINS  239 

end  is  flung  loosely  across  the  breast,  over  the  left 
shoulder. 

Like  the  Tibeto-Burman  tribes,  the  ears  are  pierced 
to  hold  metal  tubes,  but  the  rattan  cane  rings  with 
which  the  rude  jungly  people  adorn  their  persons 
are  not  worn ; for  the  Shans  have  emerged  from 
the  wood  age  into  the  metal  age,  and  naturally 
(but  silently)  despise  their  uncouth  though  powerful 
neighbours. 

Their  large  huts,  built  entirely  of  bamboo  matting 
thatched  with  grass,  are  raised  three  or  four  feet 
from  the  ground  on  a perfect  forest  of  piles,  and 
entered  by  a ladder,  or,  in  some  cases,  by  an  elaborate 
stairway  with  carved  posts.  The  front  of  the  hut  is 
closed  in,  but  from  the  back  room  you  step  straight 
out  beneath  the  typical  Shan  half-dome-shaped  eave 
on  to  an  open  balcony.  Here  the  women  of  the 
household  sit  together  gossiping,  smoking  and  weaving 
cloth.  Except  in  its  larger  size,  the  Hkamti  hut 
does  not  differ  materially  from  the  Shan  huts  seen 
in  Upper  Burma. 

In  winter  the  village,  with  its  palm-trees  and 
pagodas,  its  pumelo-trees  laden  with  golden  fruit 
nearly  as  big  as  a man’s  head,  its  gardens  hedged  in 
with  sunflowers  and  Lantana,  its  slaves  thatching  huts 
anew  and  weaving  fences,  is  picturesque  enough ; but 
during  the  rains  it  is  a morass  through  w'hich  squelch 
grunting  pigs  and  fawning  cattle,  wdth  a sprinkling 
of  clucking  hens.  So  deep  is  the  mud  that  a narrow 
gangway  of  planks,  raised  six  inches  off  the  ground, 
is  laid  down  the  streets,  and  by  using  this  fairway 
it  is  possible  to  avoid  some  of  the  quagmires,  unless  a 
lurching  buffalo,  with  bovine  humour,  pushes  you  into  it. 


24o  THE  PLAINS 

As  for  the  forests  and  mountains  which  enfold 
this  smiling  plain,  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  convey 
any  adequate  idea  of  their  immensity  and  utter 
desolation. 

To  the  north  lie  the  sources  of  the  Mali  hka, 
flowing  in  half-a-dozen  big  rivers  down  from  the 
snowy  Lohit  divide,  on  the  other  side  of  which  is 
the  Lohit  river,  with  the  Mishmi  Hills  and  Tibet 
beyond. 

To  the  west  lie  ranges  of  mountains,  tier  on  tier, 
inhabited  by  Singphos  (who  are  none  other  than 
Kachins),  beyond  which  the  waters  flow  down  to  the 
Brahmaputra  and  the  Chindwin. 

To  the  south  lies  the  unexplored  country  between 
the  two  branches  of  the  Irrawaddy,  known  as  the 
“ triangle.” 

To  the  east  lie  the  mountains  we  had  crossed  with 
so  much  difficulty,  and  beyond  them  the  wonderful 
mountains  of  Yun-nan. 

All  this  country  is  scarcely  known — the  few  travellers 
who  have  crossed  it  here  and  there  have  done  so  as 
quickly  as  possible,  often  starving.  Much  of  it  is 
known  to  a few  frontier  officers  only.  Yet  there 
are  wonders  hidden  behind  the  black  wall  of  forest, 
such  as  the  dwarf  Nungs  of  the  Taron,  to  the  north- 
east, whose  huts  are  built  in  the  tree-tops ; the 
black  Marus,  spearing  their  fish  from  canoes ; the  un- 
sealed peaks  of  Noi  Matoi,  Daphla  Bum  and  many 
other  snow-capped  giants ; unexplored  rivers,  and  the 
passes  into  Tibet — oh ! wonders  for  the  explorer  and 
naturalist. 

Big  game  is  said  to  abound  in  the  mountains,  though 
I had  found  the  sodden  jungles  apparently  devoid  of 


A Religious  Festival  on  the  Hkamti  Plain. 

Note  the  Silk  umbrellas  held  over  the  Shall. saubvas  or  chiefs.  Cymba^  and  drums  comprise  the  band. 


THE  PLAINS  241 

life.  Tiger,  rhino,  sambur,  elephant,  bison,  burbal , 
pig  are  all  spoken  of — Prince  Henry  met  with  tiger, 
two  horned  rhinoceros,  and  antelope  on  the  Assam 
ranges  to  the  west,  and  British  officers  have  told  me 
of  many  tracks  on  the  path  between  Fort  Hertz  and 
Myitkyina.  Musk  deer  and  takin  are  common,  so 
it  is  said,  on  the  mountain  ranges  to  the  north,  and 
barking  deer  came  right  into  Fort  Hertz. 

But  the  reader  must  not  imagine  that  Hkamti  Long 
is  a sportsman’s  paradise — he  certainly  will  not  if  he 
has  followed  me  closely. 

The  jungle  is  all  but  impassable,  the  climate  very 
bad.  There  is  no  food,  transport  is  often  unobtainable, 
and  there  are  all  the  discomforts  of  a hot,  wet  country 
to  contend  with — leeches,  ticks,  sand-flies  and  many 
more. 

However,  there  is  a certain  amount  of  snipe  and 
duck  shooting  on  the  open  plain,  imperial  pigeon  in 
the  forest,  and  jungle  fowl  and  pheasants  in  the  long 
grass  round  the  fringe  of  the  jungle;  while  in  the 
Mali  hka  is  to  be  had  some  of  the  best  mahseer 
fishing  in  India,  fish  up  to  eighty  pounds  in  weight 
having  been  taken  in  its  waters.1 

One  evening  I -walked  out  to  see  some  pagodas 
near  Putao  village — they  stood  alone  in  the  paddy- 
fields,  shaded  by  palm-trees,  green  islands  in  a golden 
sea. 

Entering  the  biggest  through  a narrow  tunnel, 

1 The  record  for  mahseer  taken  at  Fort  Hertz,  an  eighty-six- 
pound  fish,  belongs  to  Mr  Langley  of  the  P.W.D.  But  the  most 
successful  fisherman  is  probably  Mr  P.  M.  R.  Leonard,  of  the 
Frontier  Service,  who  has  captured  many  big  fish  from  fifty  to 
seventy  pounds  in  weight. 

Q 


242  THE  PLAINS 

the  sides  of  which  were  decorated  with  small  mural 
paintings,  I found  myself  in  a circular  brick  vault 
tapering  up  to  a pointed  dome  crowned  by  a lotus 
bud.  Most  of  the  space  was  taken  up  by  a life- 
size  recumbent  figure  of  Buddha  in  alabaster,  which 
had  once  been  covered  with  gold  leaf.  A spiral  of 
writing  in  Shan  characters 1 encircled  the  narrowing 
dome,  and  just  below  was  a frieze  composed  of  fifty- 
five  niches,  each  containing  a tiny  gilt  image  of  Buddha 
only  an  inch  high. 

In  another  pagoda  was  a seated  figure  of  Buddha, 
round  the  pedestal  of  which  were  small  paintings  on 
plaster,  covered  with  glass,  of  Bodhisattwas  in  grey 
monk’s  garb  wfith  legs  crossed  in  the  orthodox  attitude 
of  meditation,  each  with  a palm-leaf  fan ; their  faces 
were  curiously  Chinese  in  expression. 

From  the  ordered  pagodas  and  trim  gravel  paths 
bordered  with  beds  of  Michaelmas  daisies  and  shrubs 
I wandered  out  into  the  wdldness  of  the  paddy-fields, 
along  the  ditches  of  which  grew  a tall  grass  whose 
hard  grey  ‘ seeds  ’ 2 are  much  prized  by  some  of 
the  jungle  natives,  as  beads  for  trimming  their  bags. 

The  pagodas  of  the  farther  cluster  were  smaller, 
and  contained,  in  some  cases,  dozens  of  small  Buddhas, 
arranged  round  a cone-shaped  pillar,  on  which  one 
might  gaze  through  small  openings  in  the  outer  wall 
facing  north,  south,  east  and  west. 

1 There  are  several  totally  different  Shan  scripts. 

2 Coix  Lachryma  (Job’s  tears),  cultivated  for  food  in  many  parts 
of  south-east  Asia,  more  particularly  in  Assam.  At  the  base  of  ,each 
inflorescence  is  a hard,  polished,  grey,  pear-shaped  body,  resembling 
a seed.  This  is  really  the  bract  of  the  inflorescence,  and  belongs  to 
several  spikelets,  not  to  a single  flower. 


THE  PLAINS  243 

By  the  end  of  November  I was  fit  to  start  again. 
The  doctor  was  going  down  to  Myitkyina  on  leave, 
so  I accompanied  him,  abandoning  all  idea  of  lengthen- 
ing the  journey  by  crossing  into  Assam. 

The  Deputy  Commissioner  lent  me  a mule  to  ride. 
For  transport  we  had  Nung  porters,  and  two  elephants, 
hired  from  one  of  the  Shan  sawbwas , or  chiefs,  who 
keep  a certain  number  of  these  beasts. 

On  28th  November  the  doctor  started,  and  two 
days  later  I followed.  As  usual,  a heavy  white  pall 
of  mist  lay  over  the  plain  in  the  early  morning,  but 
up  on  the  ridge  we  were  almost  clear  of  it — we  could 
see  blue  sky  overhead  through  the  thin  veil — till  it 
gave  a heave  as  the  sun  rose. 

Then  it  was  slowly  rent  aside  and  rolled  up  into 
puffs  which  clung  to  the  mountains,  and  disappeared 
mysteriously,  and  the  whole  plain  was  flashing  and 
smiling  in  the  glorious  sunshine. 

So  I bade  farewell  to  Mr  Hertz,  and  to  Hkamti 
Long,  where  I had  been  so  long,  and  turned  my  face 
southwards. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

FORDING  the  Nam  Palak,  now  quite  a shallow 
stream,  we  passed  between  gardens  where  pink 
roses  and  scarlet  Canna  were  jumbled  up  with 
climbing  marrows,  pumelo-trees  and  papaws,  crossed 
a strip  of  low-lying  sand  freckled  with  scrub  jungle, 
and  emerged  on  to  the  open  plain. 

How  different  it  looked  to  the  swamp  we  had 
floundered  through,  beneath  dripping  grey  skies,  two 
months  back ! Now  the  grass,  brown  and  shrivelled, 
was  burning  in  many  places  close  to  the  path ; the 
smoke  and  crackling  bushes  frightened  my  mule,  but 
the  elephants  took  no  notice  of  them. 

Dropping  down  the  steep  slope  to  the  lower  terrace, 
we  crossed  a belt  of  jungle,  where  I noticed  several 
screw  pines.  These  have  great  bayonet-shaped  leaves 
arranged  in  close  spirals  at  the  summit  of  a palm-like 
stem,  giving  a most  curious  effect,  as  though  a giant 
hand  had  tried  to  wring  the  plant’s  head  off ! 

And  so  we  came  to  the  village  of  Langtao,  where 
I found  the  doctor  keeping  vigil  by  the  broad  Nam 
Lang,  waiting  for  the  homing  duck  to  fly  over.  It 
was  a beautiful  evening,  the  clean-cut  mountains  a 
deep  purple  against  an  orange  sky ; and  presently  a 
wedge  of  duck  winging  across,  one  fell  to  the  doctor’s 
gun. 

Next  day  we  crossed  the  Nam  Lang,  a clear,  swift 

244 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS  245 

stream  ninety  yards  broad,  by  a trestle  bridge,  and 
turning  our  faces  to  the  south,  plunged  into  the 
jungle,  where  many  streams,  now  mere  trickles,  but 
in  summer  yelling  torrents,  flow  down  to  the  Nam 
Lang.  Up  the  Nam  Lang  lies  one  of  the  three  known 
routes  from  Hkamti  to  Assam. 

At  midday  we  left  the  last  Shan  village  behind  and 
entered  the  Kachin  hills.  Immediately  the  country 
became  more  undulating,  and  by  evening  we  had 
reached  the  first  Kachin  village,  built  on  a high  bluft 
overlooking  a flat  valley,  across  which,  a mile  or  two 
distant,  was  a long  line  of  cliffs  several  hundred  feet 
high.  At  the  foot  of  these  cliffs  we  could  hear  a 
river  rumbling  along,  but  it  was  not  the  Mali  hka; 
many  days  were  to  pass  before  we  would  actually  see 
the  Mali,  though  we  were  never  very  far  away  from 
it. 

The  Kachins  are  animists,  pure  and  simple,  and  buy 
off  the  evil  nats  who,  together  with  good  nats , inhabit 
the  jungle,  by  setting  up  little  bamboo  tables  outside 
their  villages  on  which  food  is  placed  for  the  hungry 
spirits  to  help  themselves.  At  the  entrance  to  every 
village  are  also  nat  trees,  inhabited  by  spirits ; they 
are  nearly  always  fine  old  Ficus  trees,  often  covering 
a great  area  by  means  of  their  prop  roots,  and,  like 
the  village  bamboo  clumps,  are  carefully  preserved. 

In  the  middle  of  the  village  are  two  big  wooden 
beams  about  a dozen  feet  long,  stuck  in  the  ground 
and  crossed  so  as  to  make  a framewrork  something 
like  a multiplication  sign.  To  this  frame  sacrificial 
buffaloes  are  lashed  before  being  beheaded ; and  to 
the  great  central  supporting  pillar  which  stands  out 
so  prominently  in  the  front  of  the  huge  hut  are 


246  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

nailed  the  skulls  of  buffaloes  and  pigs  slain  at  every 
natgalore. 

These  huts  are  quite  like  the  Maru  huts,  but  even 
bigger.  I generally  slept  inside  the  porch  of  one, 
having  no  tent,  and  the  poultry  roosting  in  baskets 
hung  beneath  the  low-pitched  eaves,  or  the  pigs 
grunting  and  scratching  themselves  against  the  piles 
(happily  fenced  in  all  round),  did  not  suffer  me  to 
oversleep  myself. 

Drinking  our  early  morning  tea  at  five  a.m.  on  2nd 
December,  while  it  was  still  quite  dark,  we  listened 
to  the  heavy  dew  dripping  like  rain  from  the  trees 
and  shivered,  for  the  temperature  at  this  hour  was 
but  50-5°  F. 

Immediately  we  descended  into  the  valley,  and 
fording  the  river  already  noticed — the  Nam  Yak,  here 
fifty  yards  wide — followed  up  the  stony  bed  of  a 
watercourse,  presently  to  enter  what  has  been 
picturesquely  called  the  conglomerate  nalla. 

High  cliffs  of  sand  and  boulder  gravel  hidden 
beneath  a mosaic  of  velvety  leaves  rose  precipitously 
on  either  hand  as  the  nalla  narrowed.  The  stream 
dashed  this  way  and  that,  swinging  round  bend  after 
bend,  and  ahead  one  could  see  the  big  trees  which 
crowned  the  cliff  almost  touching  each  other. 

At  this  hour  a faint  mist  still  hung  over  the  gorge, 
but  presently  shafts  of  sunlight  came  slinking  between 
the  trees  and  glanced  on  the  leaves  of  some  strange 
tropic  plant  far  above.  We  were  now  completely 
hemmed  in  by  these  fantastic  cliffs  of  gravel  and  red- 
stained  sand,  crushed  so  tightly  together  as  to  have 
become  almost  solid  rock.  Here  and  there  a silver 
thread  of  water  leapt  from  above  and  frayed  out  into 


THROUGH  THE  KACIIIN  HILLS  247 

tassels.  It  seemed  almost  absurd  to  believe  that  so 
small  a stream  could  have  carved  out  this  profound 
gorge,  but  it  was  now  the  dry  season,  and  from  the 
way  the  cliffs  had  been  undercut,  one  could  plainly 
see  that  during  the  rains  a powerful  torrent  must  fill 
the  bed  of  the  tialla. 

Most  wonderful  of  all  was  the  rich  mosaic  of  foliage, 
interspersed  with  bunches  of  violet  and  lemon-yellow 
Gesnerads,  pale  begonias  with  elephant’s-ear  leaves, 
and  deiicate  maiden-hair  fern,  which  paved  the  walls ; 
it  was  a paradise  for  the  shade-loving  plants,  and  they 
revellea  in  the  damp  gloom. 

At  last  we  left  the  nalla  and  climbing  up,  up  through 
the  forest  till  we  were  more  than  a 1000  feet 
above  the  stream,  presently  looked  down  on  the  valley 
of  the  Mali  hka  and  across  to  the  blue  mountains 
beyond. 

From  this  ridge  we  descended  again  to  the  Nam  Yak, 
flowing  through  the  forest,  which,  bordered  by  strips 
of  blazing  white  sand,  came  down  to  the  water’s  edge  ; 
and  crossing  it  several  times  camped  finally  on  the  right 
bank.  Strapping  Dipterocarp  trees  with  glistening 
white  trunks  bearing  heavy  crowns  of  foliage  striped 
the  dark  green  forest;  many  were  draped  with  ample 
folds  of  creepers,  and  the  showy  pale  violet  trumpet 
flowers  of  Thunbergia  grandiflora  W'ere  often  seen. 

We  camped  on  a sandbank  just  above  the  river, 
putting  up  bamboo  shelters  roofed  with  tarpaulins,  or 
banana  leaves  and  grass;  but  the  Nung  porters  scraped 
hollowrs  in  the  sand,  animal  fashion,  and  slept  by  their 
fires  in  the  open,  merely  sticking  up  a few  fan-shaped 
palm  leaves  to  keep  off  the  wind.  Long-haired,  dirty 
and  unclad — they  possess  only  a hempen  towel  and 


248  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

jacket  apiece,  with  a blanket  for  night  use — these  poor 
wild  jungle  folk  are  hardy  and  cheerful. 

December  3 rd . — Minimum  temperature  5 1 0 F.  A thick 
cloak  of  mist  swaddled  the  river,  and  the  air  was  raw 
at  six  o’clock ; but  the  sun  coming  through,  the  ther- 
mometer stood  at  7 o°  F.  in  the  shade  by  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon. 

The  day’s  march  was  a short  one,  about  eight  miles 
to  a P.W.D.  bungalow  situated  on  the  bank  of  a river, 
the  Wot  hka,  in  the  midst  of  the  forest. 

We  passed  through  two  Kachin  villages,  where  stood 
trees  laden  with  huge  limes,  besides  orange-trees,  whose 
good-looking  fruits  were,  however,  a delusion,  the  skins 
being  very  thick  and  full  of  oil ; the  flavour  was  sweet, 
and  there  were  no  seeds — but  neither  was  there  any 
pulp ; it  was  all  skin. 

We  saw  a number  of  duck  on  the  Wot  hka,  but 
though  the  doctor  spent  an  evening  with  them,  he  had 
to  be  content  with  nothing  better  than  a merganser. 

In  the  afternoon  I found  several  of  our  porters 
searching  beneath  the  shingle  of  the  river  bed  for  a 
species  of  bug,  which  when  captured  was  decapitated 
between  the  finger-nails  and  dropped  into  a bamboo 
tube.  These  bugs  are  fried  in  oil  and  eaten  as  a 
delicacy,  despite  their  horrible  odour  ! 

The  Kachins  here  were  dressed  very  similarly  to  the 
Marus  of  the  ’Nmai  valley,  the  long-gyi  being  usually 
dark  navy  blue  striped  with  dull  red — very  j ungly  colours. 
Kachin  women  have  no  excuse  for  keeping  their  husbands 
waiting ; they  have  no  hat  to  be  set  at  an  accurate 
angle  in  front  of  the  glass,  and  their  raven  hair  is  simply 
tied  in  a knot  on  top  of  the  head.  English  girls,  when 
sea  bathing,  do  likewise,  but  have  evolved  something 


A Kachin  Village  on  the  Burma  Frontier. 

Wooten  weaving.  Sacrificial  buffaloes  are  lashed  to  the  cross-posts  by  the  fence  on  tin-  occasion  of  mil  festivals, 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS  249 

more  elaborate  for  everyday  use.  But  small  children 
shave  their  heads — wisely,  seeing  the  collection  of 
vermin  harboured  by  adults — leaving  only  a small  whisp 
in  front,  perhaps  a handle  for  angry  mothers  to  catch 
hold  of. 

They  were  not  particularly  affable,  these  Kachins,  but 
they  tolerated  us  in  their  villages  without  welcoming  us 
inside  their  huts;  though,  as  already  recorded,  I usually 
set  up  my  bed  under  the  frowning  eave  of  the  porch 
w'here  the  w'omenfolk  pound  rice  of  an  evening  and 
weave  the  family  clothes. 

Inside,  the  Kachin  hut  closely  resembles  the  Maru, 
the  “maidens’  hearth,”  which  is  the  only  room  com- 
pletely walled  in  on  all  sides,  being  in  front. 

The  fact  is,  the  Kachins  realise  they  will  have  to  give 
up  their  thievish,  domineering  ways,  and  abandon 
slavery,  for  even  their  jungles  can  no  longer  hide  them 
from  the  prying  eyes  of  the  sircar. 

As  you  watch  the  unaccustomed  wrhite  men  passing 
through  your  deep  forests  with  their  elephants  and 
ponies  and  their  thousands  of  mules,  and  hear  the  tramp 
of  armed  men  following  on,  Kachins,  you  must  under- 
stand that  the  time  has  at  last  come  for  you  to  submit 
to  the  dominant  race. 

But  your  religion,  your  customs,  your  huts,  and  crops, 
and  women,  and  property  will  be  left  to  you,  untouched  ; 
only  in  return,  and  for  the  privilege  of  admission  to 
the  great  brotherhood,  you  must  pay  a trifle  towards 
the  maintaining  of  security,  and  supply  porters  to 
travellers.  These  things  you  will  come  to  do  gladly 
in  time,  and  prosperity  will  be  your  lot.  So  speaks  the 
sircar. 

We  passed  some  Kachin  graves  this  day — they  are 


25o  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

similar  to  the  Maru  graves  already  described.  The 
coffin,  a hollowed  tree  trunk  with  a carved  lid,  some- 
times wrapped  in  a cloth,  stands  on  a circular  mound 
surrounded  by  a trench.  Sometimes  there  are  two 
coffins,  side  by  side.  Over  them  is  raised  a conical 
thatched  roof,  surmounted  by  a tall  pole.  Coffin  lid 
and  pole  are  rudely  carved  and  crudely  painted — there 
is  usually  a bird  perched  on  the  summit  of  the  pole 
(for  birds  figure  in  all  primitive  Oriental  religions 
previous  to  Buddhism),  with  a couple  of  snakes  below, 
while  the  coffin  lid  terminates  in  a beaked  dragon  or 
bird’s  head. 

If  the  man  dies  in  debt  the  trench  round  the  grave 
is  left  incomplete,  an  insult  to  the  family.  As  soon 
as  the  debt  is  paid  the  trench  is  completed.  In  some 
places  we  came  on  Maru  graves  extinguished  under 
a tall  sugar  loaf  of  thatch,  fifteen  feet  high,  with  no 
opening  save  such  as  made  by  the  weather. 

It  must  not  be  imagined  that  the  coffins  thus  laid  out 
contain  corpses;  they  contain  only  calcined  bones,  or 
ashes,  for  the  dead  are  burnt,  with  little  ceremony,  and 
the  ashes  subsequently  buried  in  season  (or  when  the 
family  has  accumulated  the  necessary  funds) — it  may 
be  several  months  later,  at  a public  funeral  wake.  It 
is  the  burial,  not  the  cremation,  which  counts. 

This  is  a great  orgy,  at  which  buffaloes  are  sacrificed 
and  unlimited  feasting  and  drinking  indulged  in.  The 
ashes  are  then  interred  in  the  mound  under  the  thatch 
umbrella. 

During  the  rains,  or  while  the  paddy  is  being  cut, 
no  burials  take  place. 

Many  of  the  huts  flew  what  looked  like  a publican’s 
sign  at  the  fore — a long  bamboo  tube  ending  in  a flat 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  IIILES  251 

palm-leaf  plate  surrounded  by  a ring  of  similar  tubes; 
which  was  in  reality  a device  not  to  attract  good 
drinkers,  but  to  repel  bad  spirits. 

As  the  wind  caught  the  plate  it  swung  to  and  fro, 
and  all  the  bamboo  tubes  did  likewise,  clapping  and 
rattling  together  in  a way  to  scare  any  nat  with  an  evil 
conscience. 

The  Kachins  in  some  parts  seem  to  have  been  tainted 
with  a breath  of  Buddhism,  for  outside  a few  villages 
were  banners  hung  from  tall  poles  and  small  mud 
pagodas  crowned  by  a bamboo  spire  and  imitation  bti , 
or  umbrella,  as  seen  in  Burmese  pagodas. 

In  one  village  was  a magnificent  fig-tree,  its  branches, 
supported  by  prop  roots  which  had  dropped  to  the  soil 
from  above  and  held  fast,  spreading  twenty-five  to 
thirty  feet  from  the  central  trunk,  so  that  the  area 
covered  was  over  300  square  feet. 

The  villages  are  always  perched  up  on  the  hill-tops, 
with  a steep  descent  in  every  direction,  so  that  from 
them  we  had  good  views  of  the  high  ranges  to  the 
west,  separating  the  Mali  and  Chindwin  basins,  and  of 
the  parallel  ranges  in  the  trans-Mali  country  to  the 
east ; but  the  country  in  between  these  main  north  and 
south  trending  ranges  was  so  cut  up  that  spurs  seemed 
to  run  out  in  every  direction.  Travelling  south, 
parallel  to  the  Mali  hka,  we  were  crossing  rivers  run- 
ning down  to  it  between  high  ridges ; but  often  we 
would  go  for  miles  along  the  crest  of  some  ridge  trend- 
ing at  right  angles — that  is,  north  and  south  parallel  to 
the  main  divides. 

It  was  noticeable  that  the  Mali  receives  big  tributaries 
from  both  sides,  whereas  the  ’Nmai  receives  none 
worth  speaking  of  from  the  west.  On  the  other 


252  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

hand,  no  tributary  of  the  Mali  which  we  saw  could  be 
compared  with  the  big  rivers  which  roar  down  to  the 
’Nmai  hka  from  the  China  frontier. 

All  round  us  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  was 
dense  forest  or  high  grass  and  scrub.  The  big  elephant, 
an  enormous  beast  from  Assam,  found  it  difficult  to 
get  through  in  places,  and  the  mahout  was  sometimes 
threatened  with  decapitation  by  the  branches  of  trees. 
However,  seated  on  Jumbo’s  neck  with  a foot  behind 
each  ear,  he  guided  the  wise  old  beast  skilfully,  and 
the  pair  of  them  provided  us  with  plenty  of  amusement, 
especially  the  small  Hkamti  animal,  who  always  insisted 
on  rising  while  he  was  being  loaded. 

Bat ! Bat !!  Bat ! ! ! 1 screamed  the  mahout , as  the 
kneeling  elephant,  with  half  his  load  on  his  back, 
leisurely  proceeded  to  stand  up;  then  he  would  slowly 
sink  down  again  and  allow  the  men  to  put  some  more 
on  him.  In  the  hilly  country,  however,  the  elephants 
proved  only  a nuisance,  moving  with  extreme  slowness ; 
indeed  the  big  animal  became  almost  useless,  so 
thoroughly  exhausted  was  he,  and  at  one  time  we 
quite  thought  he  was  going  to  die  by  the  wayside. 

The  jungle  on  this  side  seemed  far  less  dismal,  more 
pulsing  with  life,  than  did  the  forests  across  the’Nmai; 
but  this  may  have  only  been  due  to  the  season;  no 
doubt  the  fine  dry  weather  made  all  the  difference,  but 
we  must  also  remember  that  the  Mali  valley  is  far  more 
thickly  populated  than  is  the  valley  of  the  ’Nmai. 

Every  day  we  heard  parrots  and  monkeys  screaming, 
and  often  the  sweet  song  of  a thrush.  Sometimes  a 
golden  oriole  or  a gay  woodpecker  was  seen,  or  a 

1 Baitho  — sit  down  (Hindustani).  Bat  (pronounced  but)  is 
obviously  a corruption. 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS  253 

gorgeous  kingfisher  would  flame  by,  and  at  night  we 
heard  the  sharp  bark  of  the  muntjac.  There  were 
plenty  of  sambhur  about  too,  and  the  Kachins  shot 
them  by  night,  while  watching  their  taungya,  so  that 
we  wrere  able  to  buy  excellent  venison.  There  is  a 
little  white-polled  red  and  black  water-wren  commonly 
met  with  throughout  this  country  as  well  as  over  a 
large  part  of  China,  and  a big  grey  kingfisher,  also 
Chinese.  We  saw  striped  squirrels  too,  and  occasion- 
ally a gibbon  travelling  at  enormous  speed.  I watched 
one  clear  the  track  at  a leap,  judging  his  distance  with 
consummate  accuracy. 

When,  as  sometimes  happens,  we  met  big  mule 
convoys  going  north  with  rations,  great  delay  ensued, 
for  the  elephants  stalked  along  as  kings  of  the  road, 
and  the  opposition  mules  did  not  like  the  look  of  them. 
However,  there  is  no  room  to  stampede  in  these  jungles, 
and  any  attempt  to  do  so  makes  for  terrible  confusion. 
Some  of  the  convoys  we  met  contained  over  five  hundred 
mules,  mostly  from  Yun-nan,  but  a few  big  Government 
animals  with  their  ridiculously  heavy  and  clumsy  trap- 
pings. Even  the  war  does  not  seem  to  have  stimulated 
the  Indian  Government  into  abandoning  these  obsolete 
contrivances. 

Mountain  rice,  raised  on  hill  clearings,  is  the  chief 
Kachin  crop,  besides  a little  maize  for  brewing  liquor. 
In  the  villages  are  grown  cotton,  beans,  cucumbers, 
pumpkins,  sweet  potatoes,  oranges,  limes  and  tobacco. 
Unlike  the  Shans,  the  Kachins  do  not  indulge  in  opium, 
but  they  all  smoke.  The  Shans  grow  two  kinds  of 
tobacco,  one  for  smoking  and  another  for  chewing. 

At  sunrise  on  yth  December  the  eastern  mountains 
wrere  ink  lined  against  a rosy  sky ; below  us  mist 


254  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

filled  the  valley  and  shone  like  silver  under  the  waning 
moon.  We  marched  twelve  miles  through  very  hilly 
country,  with  fine  views  of  a high,  rocky  range  to  the 
east,  probably  the  ’Nmai  divide. 

The  mountains  here  are  composed  of  loose  sediments 
— a friable  yellow  earth  containing  scattered  pebbles 
of  granite,  silver-grey,  buff  and  reddish  sandstones, 
grey  clays  "with  dark  leaf  beds,  and  nodules  of  iron 
pyrites,  all  derived  from  the  disintegration  of  granite 
and  other  crystalline  rocks,  and  have  clearly  been  laid 
down  in  a lake  or  shallow  sea  or  perhaps  in  an  estuary. 
To  the  north  the  material  was  always  coarser — con- 
glomerates, gravel,  and  sands  instead  of  these  argillaceous 
rocks,  from  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  the  water 
deepened  southwards,  and  was  shallower  in  the  north. 
The  Hkamti  plain  and  much  of  the  country  to  the 
south  may  have  been  a lake,  into  w'hich  rivers  flowed 
from  the  north,  and  the  iron  mines  scattered  through- 
out these  mountains  probably  derive  their  existence 
from  vegetable  deposits.  The  sediments  laid  down  have 
been  subsequently  heaved  up  into  a series  of  wave-like 
parallel  ridges  from  3000  to  5000  feet  above  sea-level, 
and  cut  across  by  streams  flowing  down  from  east  and 
west. 

Still  farther  south  mica  schists  make  up  the  bulk  of 
the  ranges,  these  rocks  dipping  S.E.  or  E.S.E.  at  angles 
varying  from  30°  to  nearly  90° ; and  in  the  bed  of  the 
Mali  itself  are  dark  grey  slates  with  quartz  veins, 
dipping  east  at  about  90°.  The  Mali  hka  seems  to  be 
merely  the  overflow  of  the  Hkamti  lake,  long  since 
drained  either  by  the  river  keeping  open  a passage 
while  the  country  was  being  buckled  up,  or  by  cutting 
back  at  the  head. 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS  255 

All  the  villages  are  fairly  open,  the  huts  more  or  less 
scattered,  so  that,  being  enclosed  by  forest,  they  are 
nearly  invisible  till  one  is  right  into  them ; for  they 
reserve  to  themselves  the  highest  hill-tops  in  the 
neighbourhood.  Thus  they  deny  a view  down  on  to 
them  from  above,  though  occasionally  looking  across 
a valley  one  may  pick  out  patches  of  taungya  chequer- 
ing the  hill-side,  and  glimpse  the  grey  thatch  of  huts. 

As  to  the  forest,  which  has  been  described  as  over- 
running the  whole  country,  it  is  a glorious  sight  on 
a sunny  day,  especially  in  the  wide  river  valleys  where 
the  laughing  water  is  walled  in  with  many-hued  ever- 
green vegetation,  against  which  white  tree  trunks 
stand  like  temple  pillars  supporting  the  turquoise  dome 
of  heaven. 

There  are  oaks  and  fig-trees  in  great  variety,  sago 
palms,  Palmyra  and  climbing  palms,  tree  ferns  and  a 
wealth  of  bamboos,  many  with  prickly  stems;  Ptero- 
spermum  with  huge  shield-shaped  leaves,  Bauhinia,  screw 
Junes,  walnut,  tree-of-heaven,  Cassia,  Dalbergia,  Acacia 
and  many  more  Leguminosa?;  Sterculia,  Dipterocar- 
pacece,  tamarind ; and  in  the  valleys  open  areas  filled 
with  patches  of  banana  and  elephant  grass.  A dense 
tangle  of  climbers — in  the  sunlight,  rosy  convolvulus, 
Thunbergia  grandijiora,  Lygoduim,  Smilax;  in  the  jungle, 
lianas,  some  flattened  to  ribands,  others  like  whipcord, 
some  smooth,  others  warty,  or  covered  with  knobs,  or 
prickles,  or  spurs,  or  roughened  like  the  bark  of  an 
oak,  some  black,  some  green,  some  yellow  or  brown, 
tie  everything  together.  Then  there  are  the  epiphytic 
orchids,  Dendrobium,  Vanda  and  others,  not  yet  in 
flower;  bird’s-nest  fern,  oak-leaf  polypody  and  moss- 
like ferns  carpeting  the  tree  trunks ; Aroids  such  as 


256  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

Pothos,  and  a few  epiphytic  trees  as  Ficus  benjamina. 
On  damp,  shady  cliffs  or  in  the  forest  undergrowth  are 
many  Zingiberacea?,  such  as  Globba,  Hedychium  and 
Cautleya;  striped  Gesnerads,  more  Aroids,  and  begonias 
with  their  curious  lop-sided  leaves  resembling  an 
elephant’s  ear,  by  which  name  the  plant  is  known. 

It  is  the  flora,  not  of  China,  but  of  the  Indo-Malayan 
region ; not  of  the  Sino-Himalayan  ranges  to  the  north 
and  east,  such  as  we  had  found  beyond  the  ’Nmai  hka, 
but  of  the  Assam  valley,  and  Lower  Burma,  of  Siam 
and  the  Straits.  And  the  farther  south  we  travelled 
the  greater  the  number  of  leafless  trees  which  showed 
up,  skeletons  bleaching  in  the  sunshine. 

For  on  the  Hkamti  plain  there  is  no  long  dry  season, 
and  the  forest  is  evergreen  in  spite  of  chill  winter 
nights ; but  as  we  go  south,  we  get  more  and  more 
into  the  region  of  the  regular  monsoons,  where  wet 
and  hot  dry  seasons  alternate.  During  the  dry  season, 
about  March  or  April,  just  before  the  rains  break, 
many  trees  shed  their  leaves  for  a brief  period  and 
burst  into  flower. 

Although  these  miles  and  miles  of  jungle  appear 
monotonous,  yet  looked  closely  into  the  monsoon  forest 
is  exquisite,  as  though  peering  beneath  the  surface, 
one  grew  conscious  of  the  real  spirit  of  the  forest 
behind  its  plain  exterior.  The  temperate  forest, 
changeful  as  a petulant  child,  may  be  admired  as 
a whole ; it.  is  the  detail  of  the  monsoon  or  tropical 
forest,  in  its  limitless  diversity,  that  attracts. 

Thus  its  foliage,  differing  so  in  colour,  but  more  in 
its  arrangement ; how  on  one  tree  the  leaves  are  held 
out  boldly  at  arm’s-length,  vertically,  as  shields,  owing 
to  the  bending  of  the  petiole  where  it  meets  the  blade 


THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS  257 

(Petrospermum) ; how  leaf  chains  of  great  length  and 
delicacy  are  fashioned  by  one  creeper  which,  with  a 
cunning  kink  of  the  petiole,  brings  all  the  circular 
leaves  into  line,  overlapping  each  other  like  mail 
armour  (Aristolochia) ; while  another  spreads  its  long, 
thin  blades  alternately  right  and  left  of  the  stem, 
desperately  seeking  light;  how  this  leaf  is  hinged  in 
two  halves  which  close  at  night  like  the  pages  of 
a book  (Bauhinia) ; that  one  drawn  out  into  a long 
point  that  the  rain  may  drip  rapidly  from  its  downward- 
pointing apex  ( Ficus  re/igiosa). 

There  are  shiny,  leathery  leaves,  and  delicate  velvet 
leaves,  red  leaves,  yellow  leaves,  leaves  of  a hundred 
greens,  fitting  into  each  other,  overlapping  each  other, 
embracing  each  other,  all  pushing  and  hustling  for 
light  and  air.  It  is  a fairyland  wherein  to  roam,  while 
every  bush  and  tree  astonishes  you  with  some  dainty 
device  you  had  not  noticed  before. 

On  8 th  December  we  did  a short  march  to  Laza, 
perched  on  an  isolated  sugar-loaf  peak,  with  a clear 
view  across  the  Mali  valley  to  the  distant  ’Nmai  divide, 
and  a peep  through  the  trees  to  the  snow-clad  Zayul 
range,  ioo  miles  north. 

We  rested  a day  at  Laza,  where  we  met  two  officers 
from  Myitkyina  on  their  way  up  to  Fort  Hertz.  There 
were  rumours  of  a Kachin  rising,  and  it  was  not  certain 
whether  we  should  get  through  before  the  whole 
country-side  was  up. 

The  shade  temperature  rose  as  high  as  67°  F.  that 
afternoon,  but  it  was  15°  colder  when  we  rose  at  six 
next  morning,  10th  December.  The  Mali  valley  was 
at  that  hour  a great  lake  of  foaming  cloud  splashing  up 
against  the  dark  line  of  mountains  just  visible  against 


258  THROUGH  THE  KACHIN  HILLS 

a lemon-yellow  sky ; overhead  the  stars  were  paling, 
with  Venus  rising  like  a diamond. 

From  Laza,  in  the  crystal  atmosphere  above  the 
miasmas  of  the  river  valley,  we  plunged  down  some 
2000  feet  to  a torrent,  and  then  up,  up  again  till  on  the 
crest  of  the  next  ridge  another  invisible  torrent  suddenly 
burst  into  clamour,  and  we  descended  to  that ! So  it 
continued  all  day. 

Presently  from  beneath  a tree  an  emaciated,  raw- 
backed  pony  whinnied  to  us  as  w^e  passed.  Poor  beast ! 
He  would  never  carry  his  burden  again — his  very  hours 
were  numbered  and  he  had  been  marooned  in  the 
jungle  ! 

The  villages  hereabouts  wrere  poor,  the  huts  small 
and  dilapidated,  the  graves  with  their  conical  thatch 
roofs  falling  away,  their  trenches  filled  writh  under- 
growth, so  that  it  were  easy  to  step  into  one  unawares. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

LONG  ago  the  Shan  sawbwas  of  Hkantti  Long 
paid  tribute  to  the  kings  of  Burma,  thereby 
acknowledging  them  as  overlords. 

No  doubt  they  were  actually  independent,  but  would, 
if  necessary,  ask  the  suzerain  power  for  assistance 
against  their  enemies.  A century  ago  the  king  of 
Burma  could,  and  would,  have  marched  an  army  from 
Ava  to  Hkamti  Long  if  required,  and  thought  nothing 
of  it. 

In  those  days  Burmese  armies  marched  far  south  to 
Siam,  westwards  over  the  mountains  to  Assam,  and 
eastwards  into  China;  but  with  the  wars  between 
Burma  and  Great  Britain,  and  the  rise  of  the  Kachins, 
who  swept  southwards,  the  Hkamti  Shans  became  iso- 
lated, and  emigrating,  as  previously  described,  to  Assam, 
were  no  longer  of  account.  There  was  no  one  to  whom 
they  could  appeal  for  help,  and  so  they  pined  away. 

The  British  were  far  too  occupied  with  their  own 
affairs  in  Burma  proper  to  think  of  going  so  far  afield 
as  Hkamti  Long;  yet  after  the  annexation  of  Upper 
Burma  from  time  to  time  deputations  of  chiefs  travelled 
to  Bhamo,  there  to  acknowledge  British  overlordship 
and  claim  British  protection.  No  change  in  the  govern- 
ment of  Burma  altered  the  status  of  these  tributary 
Shans,  and  while  for  thirty  years  the  suzerain  power 
had  been  unable  to  help  them  against  the  growing 
259 


26o  back  to  civilisation 

oppression  of  the  Kachins,  here  surely  was  a power 
which  might ! 

Another  twenty  years  were,  however,  to  pass,  during 
which  British  power  was  firmly  consolidated  in  Burma 
proper,  before  Government  would  move  in  the  matter ; 
and  then  it  was  not  Kachin  oppression,  but  Chinese 
activity,  which  settled  the  issue. 

The  Chinese  having  as  the  direct  result  of  affairs  in 
Tibet  established  a comparatively  powerful  military 
autocracy  in  western  China,  naturally  looked  beyond 
their  immediate  frontier,  and  seeing  Hkamti  unoccupied, 
stepped  in  with  a view  to  annexation. 

Here  was  just  what  they  wanted — a big  open  plain 
where  paddy  could  be  cultivated,  lying  on  the  flank  of 
their  main  line  of  advance  into  Tibet. 

Their  design  was,  however,  not  entirely  unknown  to 
the  Indian  Government,  and  three  separate  British 
expeditions  were  sent  to  Hkamti  to  counteract  Chinese 
influence  before  the  final  occupation  in  1914.  The 
first  of  these  expeditions  took  place  during  the  cold 
weather  of  1910-1911.1 

The  Kachins  were  not  pleased  at  what  they  regarded 
as  an  intrusion  into  their  fastness,  and  with  their  usual 
truculence  asked  the  British  the  reason  for  this.  The 
chiefs,  however,  brought  presents,  receiving  others  in 
exchange  for  allowing  the  expedition  to  pass. 

One  chief,  indeed,  sent  to  demand  how  it  was  that 
the  British  were  passing  through  his  territory  without 
first  obtaining  his  permission.  He  was  curtly  requested 
to  come  and  see  the  British  officer,  to  which  he  replied 
that  to  do  so  he  required  an  escort  of  fifty  sepoys  and 
five  hundred  rupees  travelling  expenses ! 

1 Under  the  leadership  of  Mr  J.  T.  O.  Barnard,  C.I.E. 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  261 

This  was  refused,  the  official  bluntly  pointing  out 
that  since  he  was  travelling  in  his  own  country  he 
required  no  escort.  Three  hundred  rupees  travelling 
allowance  was,  however,  sent,  and  eventually  this 
haughty  chief  came  in,  bringing  as  presents  a lump  of 
iron  ore  and  an  elephant’s  tusk.  In  the  symbolical 
language  of  these  unlettered  tribesmen  the  former 
signified  that  he,  the  chief,  was  the  owner  of  all 
the  iron  mines  in  his  territory,  and  would  brook  no 
interference. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  expedition  at  a certain  village 
the  British  official  saw,  stuck  in  the  ground  outside  his 
tent,  a fine  spear,  transfixing  a pumpkin,  together  with 
a panji — that  is,  a sharp  bamboo  stake.  Not  very 
valuable  gifts,  perhaps,  but  then  the  Kachins  are 
poor. 

Puzzled,  but  taking  these  things  for  presents  from 
the  village  headman,  the  Englishman  was  about  to 
accept  them  when  the  Kachin  interpreter  prevented 
him,  saying  that  an  insult  was  intended,  the  interpreta- 
tion being  as  follows. 

The  panji  meant  war.  The  pumpkin  meant  that  the 
English  thought  the  Kachins  a worthless  people,  a 
sentiment  they  bitterly  resented ; and  the  spear  that 
they  were  united  against  the  common  enemy. 

Hearing  this,  the  official  asked  for  an  explanation,  at 
the  same  time  ordering  the  chief  to  remove  the  offend- 
ing articles.  But  he  came  in  person,  refusing  to  remove 
them,  and  offering  quite  a different  interpretation. 

The  pumpkin,  he  said,  meant  that  the  Kachins  were 
a poor,  simple-minded  jungle  folk,  living  on  jungle  roots ; 
the  spear  that  the  British  were  a powerful,  upright 
people ; and  the  panji  that  the  poor  Kachins,  children  in 


262  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

the  art  of  war,  and  untutored,  fought  with  bows  and 
arrows. 

In  the  end  the  chief  was  prevailed  upon  to  remove 
the  offending  articles,  whereupon  he  waxed  wroth. 

“ You  may,”  he  said,  addressing  himself  to  the 
British  official,  “pass  through  my  country  if  you  wish 
to  go  to  Hkamti  Long.  You  may  come  back  again 
next  year,  and  go  backwards  and  forwards — my  people 
will  not  molest  you.  But  we  will  never  pay  tribute  to 
the  British,  nor  be  ruled  by  them.” 

The  Kachins  have  at  various  times  given  a good  deal 
of  trouble,  especially  during  the  years  immediately 
succeeding  the  annexation  of  Upper  Burma. 

It  is  estimated  that  there  are  at  least  a million 
Kachins  in  the  mountains  between  Assam,  Upper  Burma 
and  the  China  frontier,  but  luckily  they  are  far  from 
being  united,  and  in  spite  of  difficulties  owing  to  the 
bitter  nature  of  the  country,  Government  has  never 
yet  failed  to  exact  summary  retribution  for  any  hostile 
act  of  these  freebooters. 

However,  there  are  still  large  tracts  of  country — 
notably  the  “triangle,”  between  the  ’Nmai  hka  and 
Mali  hka — where  the  Kachins  are  quite  independent. 
Nor  is  any  Englishman  permitted  to  wander  into  these 
preserves,  lest,  should  any  untoward  fate  befall  him, 
Government  should  be  forced  to  take  action. 

At  sunrise  on  ioth  December  we  saw  the  eastern 
ranges  boldly  outlined  against  a rosy  sky;  we  were 
above  the  mist,  on  which  the  waning  moon  shone 
brightly,  filling  the  valley  below  with  a faint  silvery 
light. 

Twelve  miles  were  covered  in  very  hilly  country, 
with  good  views  of  a high,  rocky  range,  devoid  of 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  263 

forest,  to  the  east.  This  might  be  the  ’Nmai  divide, 
which  is  sixty  miles  distant  as  the  crow  flies. 

The  path  we  followed  next  day  was  better  than 
usual,  though  soft,  the  animals  raising  thick  clouds  of 
dust;  but  a little  rain  would  have  turned  it  into  a stiff 
clay.  This  powdery  earth,  derived  from  laterite,  took 
on  a beautiful  rich  brownish  gold  or  ochre  tint  in  the 
sunshine. 

There  were  some  fine  sago  palms  near  the  villages, 
and  castor-oil  plants  up  to  fifteen  feet  high,  growing 
semi-w'ild. 

There  is  a regular  colony  of  Marus  here — they  seem 
to  be  much  worse  off  than  the  Kachins,  and  I bought 
a fowl  for  a handful  of  beads,  where  the  Kachins  had 
mulcted  us  to  the  tune  of  eight  or  twelve  annas. 

A prowling  tiger  roared  defiantly  close  at  hand 
during  the  night,  and  one  of  the  elephants  distinguished 
himself  by  gobbling  up  a whole  basketful  of  yams,  for 
which  we  had  to  pay  compensation.  It  is  unwise  to 
leave  anything  edible  or  inedible  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  an  elephant,  though  ours  always  went  out  into  the 
jungle  first  and  devoured  whole  clumps  of  bamboo. 

Yams  of  various  kinds  wrere  eagerly  sought  for  and 
dug  up  by  our  Nung  coolies  while  on  the  march — so 
perhaps  it  was  they,  and  not  the  elephants,  who  were 
the  real  culprits. 

The  elephants  were  very  slow  now — the  endless 
hills  seemed  to  break  their  hearts.  It  was  amusing  to 
watch  them  fill  their  trunks  with  saliva  and  spray  it 
over  their  huge  bodies,  or  wfith  sand,  and  give  them- 
selves a dry  shampoo,  to  drive  away  the  flies  which 
irritated  them  so. 

When  we  met  mule  caravans  coming  north,  as  we 


264  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

sometimes  did,  there  would  be  a stampede,  the  mules 
sidling  up  towards  the  giants,  with  their  ears  at  the 
alert,  and  then  passing  them  with  a rush. 

On  the  1 2th  the  rocks  began  to  change  their 
character,  mica  schists  replacing  the  usual  sandstones 
and  clays.  These  schists  were  much  crumpled,  and 
stood  nearly  vertical ; but  they  gave  origin  to  the  same 
reddish  earth  and  stiff  clay  as  the  others  had  done. 

Now  the  country  began  to  open  out  more,  the 
mountains  to  spread  apart  and  grow  flatter;  looking 
south  from  a high  ridge  we  saw  the  hills  beginning  to 
fade  away  into  plains. 

Each  day  our  order  of  march  was  the  same.  We 
got  up  at  five,  while  it  was  still  quite  dark,  with  wet 
mists  lying  in  the  valley  and  brilliant  starlight  over- 
head ; had  breakfast  at  six,  and  started  at  half-past 
seven.  After  four  hours  on  the  road  we  would  halt 
by  a village  or  at  some  wayside  stream  for  lunch; 
then,  pursuing  our  way  till  about  three  in  the  after- 
noon, reach  another  village,  thus  completing  the  day’s 
allotted  stage. 

On  the  13th,  passing  through  Bumpat  and  other 
Maru  villages,  we  camped  in  an  abandoned  taungya, 
which  was  lying  fallow,  where  wastrel  plants  of  cotton 
and  Capsium,  with  gaudy  yellow  and  magenta  coxcombs, 
had  sprung  up  amongst  a wilderness  of  weeds. 

The  Marus  in  these  parts  were  better  off,  and 
possessed  that  hallmark  of  aristocratic  Maru  society — 
cowry  belts.  In  the  good  old  days,  they  said,  they 
had  visited  the  jade  mines. 

There  were  tiny  tea  gardens  in  these  villages.  As 
cultivated  here,  it  is  a slender-branched  tree,  fifteen  to 
eighteen  feet  high. 


The  raft  will  be  broken  up  and  the  bamboos  sold  down  the  Irrawaddy. 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  265 

The  method  of  making  tea  is  as  follows : — 

The  leaves  are  rammed  into  a bamboo  tube,  which 
is  roasted  over  the  fire  till  on  again  ramming  down  the 
leaves  juice  can  be  squeezed  out.  More  leaves  are 
added,  and  the  process  repeated,  till  finally  the  tube  is 
filled  with  a compact  mass  of  leaves  like  plug  tobacco; 
and  it  is  cut  up  in  the  same  way,  to  be  used  as  required. 

Such  tubes  of  compressed  tea  sell  for  six  to  twelve 
annas,  though  one  would  imagine  that  by  this  process 
all  virtue  had  been  expressed  from  the  leaves. 

We  were  able  to  get  good-flavoured  bananas  here, 
though  they  were  rather  full  of  hard  black  seeds. 
Walnut-trees  are  found  in  the  jungle,  but  the  nuts  are 
useless  for  eating,  the  thick  shell  being  as  hard  as 
stone.  The  bark  is  said  to  be  used  for  poisoning  fish, 
which  rise  to  the  surface  when  it  is  thrown  into  the 
stream.  At  Hpimaw,  however,  edible  walnuts  are 
found.  This  is  evidently  another  variety  altogether, 
probably  introduced  from  Yun-nan. 

The  mulberry  is  cultivated  for  rearing  silkworms, 
from  which  the  Kachins  weave  their  head-cloths  and 
beautifully  worked  bags,  decorated  with  silk  tassels. 

Wild  rubber  (Ficus  elastica ) is  still  fairly  common, 
and  is  planted  near  the  villages.  We  saw  many  trees 
criss-crossed  all  over  with  V-shaped  incisions  made  to 
tap  the  latex,  some  so  exhausted  that  they  were  already 
dead.  But  the  natives,  finding  rubber  valuable,  are 
now  more  careful  of  their  trees. 

On  14th  December  we  crossed  the  Daru  hka.  It 
was  a lovely  day,  the  shade  temperature  rising  to  740 
F.  in  the  afternoon,  which  contrasted  with  an  early 
morning  temperature  of  50°  F.  seems  very  hot. 

The  Daru  hka,  like  the  other  rivers  crossed  between 


266  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

Hkamti  Long  and  Myitkyina,  flows  down  from  the 
Kumon  range,  separating  the  Chindwin  basin  from  the 
Mali  valley. 

The  early  mornings  continued  dewy  and  misty,  but 
the  days  were  radiant,  with  enough  snap  about  the 
nights  to  brace  us. 

The  15th  was  a great  day.  The  road  was  fairly 
good,  descending  in  abrupt  sweeps,  and  then  suddenly, 
at  out  feet,  broad  and  strong,  crystal-clear,  the  Mali  at 
last,  rolling  between  banks  of  glistening  sand. 

A steep  descent  and  we  lay  by  the  river  in  the 
smiting  Burmese  sunlight,  watching  the  water  slip 
swiftly  by  and  listening  to  the  murmur  of  a small  rapid 
lower  down. 

After  lazing  thus  for  an  hour,  drinking  in  the  peace 
and  beauty  of  the  scene,  we  continued  our  march,  soon 
leaving  the  rocky  river  bed  for  the  jungle  again. 

Presently  we  passed  several  groups  of  Kachins  re- 
turning from  Myitkyina  driving  cattle  before  them, 
sure  sign  the  new  leaven  was  working.  Formerly  a 
man  who  went  to  Myitkyina  to  buy  anything  got  back 
with  a very  small  portion  of  it,  having  paid  the  greater 
part  away  in  taxes  to  be  allowed  to  pass.  But  with 
the  picketing  of  the  road  by  military  police  every  fifty 
miles  an  impetus  has  been  given  to  trade. 

No  wonder  the  short-sighted  duwas  are  sad,  now 
that  they  have  to  go  down  to  Myitkyina  to  buy  their 
own  salt  and  cattle,  instead  of  stealing  from  weaker 
brethren  or  from  the  Shans ! They  do  not  yet  per- 
ceive how  immeasurably  to  their  ultimate  interest  is  the 
opening  of  the  road.  Nor,  perhaps,  do  they  greatly 
care  about  their  ultimate  interest ! 

On  1 6th  December  the  temperature  fell  as  low  as 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  267 

490  F. — the  lowest  I recorded  on  the  road.  Dew  was 
streaming  from  the  trees,  and  through  the  opaque  mist 
our  camp  fires  gleamed  thickly. 

We  had  only  ten  miles  to  do,  starting  with  a long 
climb  up  from  the  valley  till  we  stood  over  3000  feet 
above  the  river. 

A few  miles  more  and  then  from  the  ridge  just  above 
the  ’Nsop  stream  we  had  a clear  view  southwards  of 
the  Mali  hka,  blue  as  the  cold  weather  sky,  twisting 
through  the  forested  mountains ; the  bare,  white-barked 
trees  striping  the  green  wall  of  jungle  made  a very 
pretty  scene,  bathed  in  the  golden  afternoon  sunshine. 

A precipitous  descent  brought  us  down  to  the  ’Nsop 
zup,  splashing  over  its  bed  of  jagged  slate  rocks,  and 
crossing  by  a bamboo  trestle  bridge  we  reached  the 
military  police  post  above. 

That  night  we  sat  down  six  to  dinner — two  P.W.D. 
men,  an  officer  of  the  32nd  Pioneers  at  work  on  the 
new  mule-road,  a military  police  officer,  the  doctor 
and  myself.  The  talk  naturally  ran  on  exploration  at 
the  sources  of  the  Irrawaddy,  of  dead  and  dying  mules, 
of  trackless  forests  and  strange  beasts,  of  rations  and 
ammunition  abandoned  and  buried  in  the  jungle  for 
lack  of  transport,  of  wild  savages  and  wilder  mountains, 
remote  valleys  and  unknown  rivers.  It  was  a pictur- 
esque gathering  on  a far  frontier  of  the  Empire,  while 
Britain  was  fighting  for  her  life  in  Flanders. 

Country  boats  were  expected  to  arrive  from  Myit- 
kyina  any  day,  and  I awaited  their  arrival,  while  the 
doctor,  who  was  going  on  leave,  hired  carts  for  the 
remaining  forty-six  miles,  preferring  to  start  at  once 
by  road  rather  than  await  the  mythical  boats.  As  it 
turned  out,  none  came  for  a week. 


268  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

Meanwhile  the  porters  and  elephants  had  started 
back;  for  the  Nungs  were  fearful  of  being  bewildered 
in  the  mighty  bustle  of  Myitkyina!  We  had  two 
chill  days  of  rain  now,  but  that  soon  passed,  and  it  was 
beautiful  to  see  the  sun  climb  into  the  valley  and  roll 
up  the  quivering  mist  like  a curtain. 

Each  day  I wandered  in  the  jungle,  never  far  from  the 
bungalow,  lest  the  boats  should  come  during  my  absence. 
At  night  the  familiar  bark  of  the  muntjac  and  the 
tiger’s  appalling  roar  sounded  very  close  in  the  stillness. 

’Nsop  fort  crowns  a small  knoll  overlooking  the 
river  at  the  limit  of  boat  navigation,  nearly  1000  miles 
from  the  sea. 

See  now  ’Nsop  post  during  the  ‘open’  season,  when 
it  is  the  rationing  base  for  Hkamti,  160  miles  distant  by 
road. 

A mule  convoy  is  picketed  in  the  hollow,  and  a dozen 
bullock  carts  are  straggling  through  the  gate  in  the 
barbed  wire,  loaded  up  with  rations. 

Thus  the  small  maidan  below  the  fort  is  crowded  with 
Chinese  muleteers,  Indian  drabis , Burmese,  Kachins, 
Shans  and  Gurkhas,  all  shouting  at  once;  to  the  English- 
man’s eye  they  are  apparently  mixed  up  in  helpless 
confusion,  actually  they  are  evolving  some  sort  of  order 
out  of  the  chaos,  in  the  peculiar  Oriental  way. 

The  carts  are  being  unloaded,  and  the  loads  trans- 
ferred to  mules.  Now  the  Panthays  leave  their  fires, 
the  squatting  circles  dissolve,  and  presently  the  convoy 
of  150  mules,  with  one  man  to  every  five,  starts  on  its 
long  march  northwards. 

No  sooner  has  the  last  mule  been  swallowed  up  in 
the  forest  than  from  beyond  the  rocky  promontory  which 
juts  out  into  the  river  bed  is  heard  the  jangle  of  mule 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  269 

bells  again,  and  the  head  of  an  incoming  convoy 
appears.  Here  they  come,  strung  out  across  the  hot 
white  sand,  the  weary  little  mules,  though  empty,  hang- 
ing their  heads ; for  they  have  marched  twenty-five 
miles  this  day. 

As  soon  as  they  are  within  the  barbed  wire,  pack- 
saddles  are  removed,  picket  lines  set  out,  and  in  half- 
an-hour  they  are  contentedly  crunching  their  ration  of 
beans ; while  the  muleteers,  their  fires  blazing  again, 
are  squatting  round  the  big  iron  pot  bubbling  in  the 
centre,  each  with  his  rice  bowl  and  chopsticks.  So 
they  chatter  away  as  only  a happy-go-lucky  Panthay 
muleteer  can. 

Before  he  started  back,  the  big  elephant  was  taken 
down  to  ’Nsop  stream  and  scraped  clean  with  a dah. 

It  was  as  good  as  a play.  First  he  knelt  down 
gently,  so  as  not  to  upset  the  mahout , who  was  per- 
forming hazardous  antics  on  his  back.  Then  he  rolled 
over  on  to  his  side,  raising  a tremendous  wave,  and 
completely  submerged  himself  save  for  his  hind  quarters, 
which  appeared  like  a great  grey  glistening  hill  of 
leather.  Next,  his  trunk  appeared  out  of  the  water 
momentarily,  and  sank  again,  followed  by  a sizzle  of 
bubbles. 

Meanwhile  the  mahout  was  dancing  with  agility  on 
his  back,  scrambling  to  a flank  as  the  lusty  brute  rolled 
over,  and  hitting  him  unmercifully  across  the  head  with 
a dah  blade,  till  once  the  elephant  fairly  roared  with 
pain.  After  coming  up,  he  rose  heavily  to  his  feet, 
ploughed  tempestuously  through  the  water,  the  mahout 
still  balanced  on  his  back,  knelt  dowm,  rolled  over  and 
sank  again.  At  last  he  wras  clean,  scraped  all  over, 
and  emerged  shaking  himself. 


27o  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

Orchids  were  by  no  means  so  common  or  various 
here  as  they  were  in  the  wet  Hpimaw  hills  between 
3000  and  6000  feet-;  they  do  not  get  so  equable 
a supply  of  water  here,  in  the  regular  monsoon  climate, 
with  its  long  period  of  drought. 

At  last,  on  22nd  December,  the  long-expected 
country  boats  arrived,  and  were  quickly  unloaded. 
These  boats,  laden  with  stores,  are  towed  up  from 
Myitkyina,  and  drift  back  with  the  current. 

After  breakfast  T‘ung  and  I went  on  board, 
preferring  to  start  late  rather  than  kick  our  heels  at 
’Nsop  for  another  day.  It  was  pleasant  to  be  lolling 
in  a boat  on  the  last  lap  of  our  journey. 

We  had  three  boatmen,  one  in  the  stern  with  the 
steering  sweep  and  two  in  the  bows  hoiking  away  with 
short  strokes,  while  we  seated  ourselves  amidships  on 
the  luggage.  However,  our  crew  did  little  rowing 
once  we  were  adrift,  enticed  from  work  by  the  lure  of 
opium;  but  the  breeze  being  dead  astern  we  pinned 
two  blankets  together  and  raised  a sail.  So  with  the 
help  of  the  breeze  we  scudded  along  steadily,  and  soon 
shot  into  a race  which  took  us  along  well  for  half-a- 
mile,  the  little  boat  jogging  merrily  over  the  choppy 
waves  which  slapped  against  the  gunwale. 

Long  jagged  peninsulas  of  grey  slate  jutted  out  from 
the  shore,  or  showed  up  in  mid-stream,  and  we  floated 
between  well-timbered  hills  wrhose  lower  slopes  were 
covered  with  plantations  of  mulberry.  Three  hours 
after  starting  we  danced  suddenly  between  a maze  of 
rocks,  and  there  before  us,  flashing  in  the  sunshine, 
smiled  the  broad  Irrawaddy,  the  great  river  of  Burma, 
placid  as  a lake. 

We  had  reached  the  confluence. 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  271 

The  ’Nmai  hka  here  joins  the  Mali  hka  at  an  angle 
of  about  90°,  flowing  from  nearly  due  east,  boisterous 
and  wilful  as  ever.  Behind  us  lay  the  wicked  mountains 
of  the  Burmese  hinterland ; in  front  lay  the  fair  land  of 
Burma. 

Progress  now  became  slow,  for  the  current  was 
feeble.  As  the  sun  sank  to  rest  we  passed  Watungy 
post,  and  immediately  after  came  one  quick  hair-raising 
rush  through  the  big  rapid,  where  the  channel  is 
choked  with  sabre  teeth,  leaving  a single  narrow 
passage.  Into  this  maw  the  water  hurls  itself  with  an 
angry  roar. 

The  boat  seemed  to  leap  into  the  jaws  of  a monstrous 
shark  with  triple  row's  of  cruel  teeth  which  had  bitten 
off  and  cast  aside  great  tree  trunks,  now  stranded 
thirty  feet  above  water-level.  The  passage  is  barely 
a score  of  yards  in  breadth  and  the  water  boils  and 
foams  in  its  rage  to  get  through. 

My  heart  was  in  my  mouth  as  we  swung  round 
towards  a w'icked-looking  rock  which  just  showed 
above  water.  We  were  right  on  it,  I thought.  Then 
the  vigilant  pilot  gave  a warning  yell  which  sent  the 
opium  smokers  to  the  bows  in  double  quick  time,  from 
where  they  fended  us  off  with  a pole  not  a moment  too 
soon  to  save  our  boat  from  going  to  the  bottom  of  the 
Irrawaddy. 

Now'  the  journey  became  a tranquil  dream;  the 
sun  set,  and  the  primrose  sky  faded  out  as  dusk  came 
on.  So  broad  and  still  was  the  great  river,  so  remote 
the  low,  tree-clad  banks,  that  wre  seemed  to  be  motion- 
less under  the  stars ; but  a glance  at  the  bobbing 
buoys  which  here  and  there  marked  the  deep  water 
channel  showed  that  there  was  a good  stream  running. 


272  BACK  TO  CIVILISATION 

A strange  throbbing  noise  grew  on  us,  and  after 
a time  resolved  itself  into  the  rattle  of  machinery, 
rising  louder,  then  falling  again.  A black  shape, 
glowing  with  lights,  loomed  up  ahead,  and  the  noise 
grew  to  a full-throated  roar  as  we  floated  past  the 
dredgers  sucking  up  gold  from  the  mud  of  the  river. 
Then  they  too  fell  astern  and  their  voices  sank  to  a 
whisper. 

A heavy  dew  settled  down  on  everything,  and  the 
stars  glittered  more  brilliantly  than  ever.  Feeling  cold, 
I took  a turn  at  the  oars ; then  fell  to  dozing. 

Suddenly  a bugle  close  at  hand  rang  out  “ Last  Post  ” 
and  I sprang  up  with  a start.  The  high  bank  of  the 
Myitkyina  shore  rose  above  us,  and  a moment  later  we 
were  alongside. 

Without  waiting  for  anything  I leapt  ashore  to 
stretch  myself,  stiff  with  cold  and  cramp — we  had  been 
thirteen  hours  in  the  boat. 

Here  were  the  grass  lawns,  the  roads  and  shaded 
bungalows  just  as  of  old;  everything  seemed  to  be 
wrapped  in  slumber;  but  I must  wander  through  the 
familiar  scene  like  a restless  spirit  revisiting  its  beloved 
haunts,  drinking  in  the  scent  of  roses. 

The  crisp  challenge  of  a sepoy  sentry  startled  me 
for  a moment,  and  then  came  the  muttered  “Pass, 
friend.  All  well.”  So  1 wandered  about,  caring  not 
whither  my  footsteps  strayed ; and,  returning  to  the 
boat  after  midnight,  slept  under  the  stars. 

Next  morning  I missed  the  train,  but  that  afternoon, 
watching  the  polo,  I met  several  old  friends,  and  dined 
with  a party  of  officers. 

Christmas  Day . — The  sun  rose  over  the  mountains 
into  a cloudless  sky,  splashing  its  golden  light  into 


BACK  TO  CIVILISATION  273 

every  nook  and  corner,  and  sparkling  on  the  dew- 
drenched  grass. 

Soon  the  mountains  bordering  the  China  frontier 
and  away  up  north  took  on  that  warm  blue  tone  that 
you  see  in  nothing  else  except  the  smoke  of  a wood 
fire,  and  as  I looked  eastwards  for  the  last  time  before 
turning  away  to  the  railway  station  I felt  a dreadful 
home-sickness  stealing  over  me. 

In  that  moment  everything — rain,  fever,  hunger, 
unending  weariness  of  body  and  spirit,  even  infinite 
torment  of  flies — was  forgotten,  except  that  I loved  the 
mountains. 

T‘ung-ch£ien  was  to  accompany  me  as  far  as  Naba, 
where  he  changed  trains  en  route  for  Bhamo  and  Yun- 
nan. Brave  soul ! he  had  been  with  me,  away  from 
his  home  in  Li-kiang,  for  nearly  a year,  ever  a staunch 
companion,  and  cheerful  through  all  our  trials.  Would 
I ever  see  him  again,  I wondered. 

Our  boatmen  and  some  of  the  Kachin  porters  who 
had  come  by  road  were  there  on  the  platform,  waving  us  a 
last  farewell ; and  as  the  train  steamed  out  of  Myitkyina 
and  I turned  my  back  on  those  dim  mountains  rising 
tier  on  tier  in  the  pearly  haze  I could  have  stretched 
out  my  arms  to  them  and  cried. 


s 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

I HAVE  given  in  the  previous  chapters  an  account 
of  our  march  along  the  North-East  Frontier  and 
through  the  Burmese  hinterland,  pointing  out  the 
interest  of  this  country  as  regards  its  flora  and  people, 
and  showing  how  it  is  all  part  of  the  one  region  of 
parallel  rivers  which  stretches  from  the  Brahmaputra 
in  Assam  to  beyond  the  Yang-tze  in  China.  But  the 
work  would  be  incomplete  without  some  reference  to 
the  future  of  the  North-East  Frontier,  though  in  this 
case  it  is  necessary  to  be  brief. 

It  is  only  within  the  last  six  years  1 that  the  North- 
East  Frontier  problem  has  become  prominent,  though 
it  has  been  maturing  ever  since  the  Tibet  mission  of 
1 904.  Even  now  its  scope  and  significance  seem  to  be 
frequently  obscured  by  side  issues. 

As  late  as  1906  there  was  no  defined  frontier  at 
all.  Administered  territory  stopped  short  a little  north 
of  Myitkyina,  the  present  railhead  on  the  Irrawaddy, 
twenty  miles  below  the  confluence.2  North  of  that  lay 
the  vast  unadministered  territory  of  the  Burmese  hinter- 
land about  which  very  little  indeed  was  known. 

True,  the  central  plain  of  Hkamti  Long  had  become 

1 Written  in  1914. 

2 That  is,  the  confluence  of  the  eastern  and  western  branches  of  the 
Irrawaddy,  the  ’Nmai  hka  and  the  Mali  hka,  in  Burma  called  always 
“ the  confluence.”  The  former  is  now  recognised  as  the  main  stream. 

274 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  275 

familiar  from  the  journeys  of  British  officers  who 
reached  it  early  in  the  nineteenth  century  from  Assam, 
and  much  later,  in  1895,  it  was  visited  by  Prince  Henry 
of  Orleans  on  his  famous  journey  from  Tonkin  to  India. 
But  the  greater  part  of  the  territory,  especially  towards 
the  Salween  divide,  was  entirely  unexplored,  though  in 
1899  Captain  Pottinger  had  gone  up  the  ’Nmai  valley 
as  far  as  the  Laking  hka,  where,  coming  into  conflict 
with  the  ‘ black  ’ Marus  (Naingvaws),  he  wras  compelled 
to  retreat  over  the  Wulaw  Pass  to  Hpimaw,  and  so 
back  to  Burma  by  Htawgaw  and  Lawkhaung.  There 
was  no  mule-road  betw-een  Myitkyina  and  Hpimaw'  in 
those  days. 

In  1906  Hkamti  Long  again  came  into  the  official 
limelight.  I11  that  year  a Chinese  mandarin  named 
Hsia-hu,  w'hom  I met  in  A-tun-tzu  in  1911,  visited  the 
plain  from  A-tun-tzu,  and  made  proposals  for  its 
annexation  to  Yun-nan. 

But  w hatever  justification  there  may  be  in  the  Chinese 
claim  to  a part  of  the  Irrawaddy  basin,  there  can  be  no 
question  but  that  they  had  no  shadow'  of  a right  to 
Hkamti  Long.  While,  therefore,  the  Indian  Government 
was  willing  to  waive  a long-standing  interest  in  the 
extreme  north-east  of  the  hinterland,  it  wras  rightly 
adamant  as  regards  the  Hkamti  plain : Great  Britain 
could  not  tolerate  a growing  Power  like  China,  wffiose 
policy  has  ever  been  a source  of  friction  on  the  Burma 
frontier,  to  establish  herself  in  the  heart  of  the  Burmese 
hinterland.  We  shall  see  adequate  reason  for  this  in 
the  sequel. 

Hence,  though  the  question  was  not  acute,  there  was 
a potential  menace,  and  the  time  had  come  to  act. 

Now  there  are  still  left  in  Burma  a group  of  men 


276  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

who  in  the  old  days  of  thirty  years  ago  were  amongst 
the  heroes  of  the  annexation 1 — men  fresh  to  the- 
country,  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  of  a most  indomitable 
energy.  They  are  older  men  now,  though  their  en- 
thusiasm has  never  been  dimmed  by  fever,  disappoint- 
ment, or  official  red  tape. 

Amongst  this  band  of  pioneers  who  as  young  men 
had  spent  days  and  nights  in  the  saddle,  eating  as  they 
rode,  sleeping  where  they  dropped,  callous  to  hidden 
death  in  the  jungle,  w’hich  threatened  them  all  the  time 
while  rounding  up  the  scattered  remnants  of  King 
Theebaw’s  army,  was  a man  named  Hertz,  destined 
to  make  a name  for  himself  on  the  roll  of  Indian  fame. 
The  survivors  of  those  great  days  who  are  still  in  Burma 
are  men  in  prominent  positions — you  find  them  scattered 
throughout  the  country,  in  Rangoon,  Moulmein,  Manda- 
lay and  elsewhere : and  perhaps  no  one  of  them  has 
come  to  the  front  more  than  Mr  Hertz. 

Years  before  the  North-East  Frontier  became  a 
prominent  political  question,  Hertz  had  realised  that 
one  day  in  the  not  distant  future  a settlement  would 
have  to  be  made  with  China  beyond  the  Irraw'addy 
confluence. 

Unadministered  territory  which  is  to  be  a buffer 
state  between  two  civilising  powers  will  remain  unad- 
ministered only  so  long  as  neither  power  is  willing  to 
undertake  the  responsibility  of  exploration  and  pacifica- 
tion. Exploration  by  Government  officials  with  armed 
escorts  is  the  thin  end  of  the  wedge. 

Hertz  therefore  applied  himself  to  the  study  of 
Chinese,  and  later  learnt  Kachin ; meanwhile  he 

1 I.e.  the  annexation  of  Upper  Burma,  always  referred  to  in  Burma 
simply  as  “ the  annexation.” 


TTTE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  277 

thoroughly  mastered  the  geography  of  the  Burma- 
Yun-nan  frontier,  and  being  later  posted  as  Deputy 
Commissioner  at  Myitkyina,  then  on  the  edge  of 
administered  country,  he  had  ample  opportunity  to 
study  local  conditions.  When  the  Government  was 
at  last  persuaded  to  extend  its  administration  into 
the  Burmese  hinterland  and  delimit  the  frontier,  it 
found  in  Hertz,  who  had  urged  action,  the  right  man 
for  the  work.  For  following  on  Hsai-hu’s  visit  to 
Hkamti  Long  in  1906  came  a raid  on  the  Lashi  village 
of  Hpimaw,  on  the  Salween  divide,  about  170  miles 
from  Myitkyina  as  the  road  goes  to-day. 

In  1 9 1 1 came  the  first  expedition  to  Hpimaw,  which 
was  subsequently  evacuated,  again  raided  by  the 
Chinese,  and  permanently  occupied  by  the  Indian 
Government  eighteen  months  later,  when  the  present 
road  and  fort  were  built,  and  the  ’Nmai  valley,  with 
its  tributaries  coming  down  from  the  Salween  divide, 
claimed  as  British  territory. 

In  the  same  year,  and  again  in  1912,  expeditions 
were  sent  up  to  Hkamti  Long  in  order  to  ascertain 
the  extent  of  Chinese  influence  there.  These  columns 
were  led  by  Mr  J.  T.  O.  Barnard,  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  frontier  officers  in  Burma.  In  the  dry 
weather  of  1912-1913  occurred  the  great  exploration 
of  the  Burmese  hinterland  by  two  British  columns, 
one  of  which  marched  up  the  Mali  valley  to  Hkamti, 
the  other  up  ^he  ’Nmai  valley  to  the  Ahkyang; 
and  then  it  waf  that  a Chinese  survey  party,  sequel 
to  Hsia-hu’s  efforts,  and  the  Tibetan  troubles  of 
1905-1 9 1 1,  was  encountered  in  the  Ahkyang  valley 
and  pushed  out  of  the  country. 

In  January,  1914,  Hkamti  Long  was  permanently 


278  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

occupied  and  a part  of  the  hinterland  brought  under 
direct  administration.  Hertz,  now  honoured  with  a 
C.S.I.  for  his  work,  was  appropriately  enough  the 
first  Deputy  Commissioner  of  the  new  district,  with 
headquarters  at  a post  called  Putao,  from  the  name 
of  the  nearest  Shan  village,  but  changed  in  1918  to 
Fort  Hertz.1 

Now  in  any  discussion  of  frontier  politics  it  is 
necessary  to  be  quite  sure  of  what  is  aimed  at  over 
a wider  field  than  the  immediate  frontier. 

The  Indian  Government  did  not  pledge  itself  to 
Hertz’s  policy  for  the  amusement  of  administering 
the  new  country.  It  would  indeed  have  shrunk  from 
doing  so  as  long  as  it  possibly  could,  for  the  initial 
outlay  in  establishing  a new  district  is  heavy,  and  its 
subsequent  administration  a matter  of  very  heavy  per- 
manent expense.  Moreover,  it  is  impossible  to  move 
on  this  frontier  without  considering  our  future  relations 
with  China  and  Tibet,  and  so,  in  ever-growing  circles 
of  complicity,  with  Russia. 

As  long  as  the  hill  tribes  behaved  themselves  and 
did  not  interfere  with  British  subjects  or  administered 
territory,  and  as  long  as  no  other  power  had  designs 
on  the  country,  it  could  well  be  left  to  go  its  own 
sweet  way  without  guidance  or  assistance.  True, 
no  European  was  permitted  to  enter  unadministered 
country ; while  a native,  as  soon  as  he  had  left  his 
friends,  ran  the  serious  risk  of  being  sold  into  slavery. 
Still  these  things  did  not  matter. 

But  as  soon  as  China  hinted  that  she  coveted  the 

1 Fort  Hertz  is  the  headquarters  of  the  new  district  known  as 
Hkamti  Long.  The  latter  is  the  Shan  name  for  the  plain,  comprising 
a number  of  petty  Shan  states,  each  under  its  own  sanubwa  or  chief. 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  279 

Burmese  hinterland,  and  required  it  as  a stepping- 
stone  to  Tibet,  it  was  necessary  to  find  out  something 
about  it  and  see  if  such  a state  of  affairs  as  seemed 
to  be  aimed  at  could  or  could  not  be  tolerated. 

It  was  no  dog-in-the-manger  policy.  The  Indian 
Government  had  always  claimed  the  basin  of  the 
Irrawaddy  on  the  ground  that  as  Hkamti  Long  had 
been  originally  subject  to  the  Burmese  kings,  with  the 
change  of  government  in  Burma,  Hkamti  automatically 
came  under  British  protection. 

This  is  the  crux  of  the  matter — that  if  we  had 
not  occupied  Hpimaw  and  Hkamti  the  Chinese  would 
have  anticipated  us  there,  threatening  the  rich  valley 
of  the  Irrawaddy  and  the  plains  of  Lower  Burma.  But 
as  it  does  not  seem  to  be  generally  understood  why 
the  occupation  of  Hkamti  by  the  Chinese  would  be 
detrimental  to  our  interests,  nor  why  we  should  saddle 
ourselves  with  the  burden  and  expense  of  its  adminis- 
tration when,  it  is  argued,  it  were  better  left  alone, 
it  will  be  as  well  to  say  a few  words  on  this 
point. 

The  journey  from  the  Salween  valley  to  the  plain  of 
Hkamti  is,  at  any  season,  an  extremely  difficult  under- 
taking. 

For  quite  four  months  in  the  year  the  passes  are 
blocked  with  snow,  and  it  is  only  in  summer,  when  the 
rains  greatly  increase  the  hardships  of  the  journey,  that 
the  passage  of  the  watershed,  with  passes  over  1 2,000 
feet,  can  be  effected.  It  is  then  obvious  that,  by  having 
the  frontier  as  far  east  as  possible,  a considerable  tract 
of  country  which  is  impassable  for  troops  is  interposed 
between  China  and  the  nearest  habitable  part  of  the 
Burmese  hinterland. 


28o  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

Why  then  surrender  this  advantage  by  allowing  the 
Chinese  to  occupy  Hkamti  Long,  by  which  means 
the  entire  mountain  barrier  is  at  once  negatived  ? For 
if  the  Chinese  are  in  possession  of  the  Hkamti  plain 
they  can  concentrate  there,  and  it  does  not  signify  how 
long  it  takes  them  to  cross  the  intervening  country  in 
small  detachments.  In  the  meantime  they  are  enabled 
to  make  the  best  of  the  country  from  the  Salween 
valley  to  Hkamti,  selecting  the  best  route,  which  is 
undoubtedly  one  via  the  Ahkyang  valley,  and  keeping 
up  some  sort  of  communications. 

“ But,”  say  many  people,  “ what  does  it  matter  if 
the  Chinese  do  occupy  Hkamti  ? They  can’t  hurt  us, 
and  by  occupying  it  we  only  put  ourselves  to  enormous 
expense  and  trouble  for  nothing.” 

But  we  must  consider  what  it  may  mean  fifty  years 
hence.  At  present  neither  Myitkyina  nor  Assam, 
especially  the  latter,  is  easily  reached  from  Hkamti,  the 
country  is  sparsely  populated,  and  those  in  possession 
are  to  some  extent  isolated. 

On  the  other  hand,  Hkamti  can  support  a population 
ten  times  as  great  as  it  does  at  present,  and  a good  road 
from  Fort  Hertz  to  Myitkyina  presents  no  insuperable 
engineering  difficulties,  as  is  shown  by  the  success  with 
which  the  P.W.D.  and  Pioneers  are  now  pushing  on 
operations.1 

Suppose,  then,  Hkamti  occupied  by  a large  Chinese 
community,  a good  mule-road  built  to  Myitkyina  and 
communication  established  with  the  Salween  valley,  this 
would  constitute  a real  menace  to  Upper  Burma,  already 
crowded  with  Chinese;  and  with  Hpimaw  also  in  their 
hands  they  would  be  in  a position  to  advance  into  the 
1 The  road  has  been  finished  long  since  this  was  written. 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  281 

Irrawaddy  valley  by  several  routes.  This,  however,  is 
not  the  most  serious  danger. 

It  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  before  the  annexation 
of  Upper  Burma  the  Chinese  endeavoured  to  frustrate 
any  attempt  by  the  British  to  open  up  communications 
between  Burma  and  China,  by  inciting  the  hill  tribes, 
just  as  they  subsequently  attempted  to  thwart  direct 
communication  between  India  and  Lhasa.  Ever  since  the 
annexation  the  hill  tribes  have  been  a constant  source  of 
anxiety  on  this  frontier.  The  Chinese  revel  in  diplomatic 
intrigue  and  are  the  worst  possible  frontier  neighbours. 

Their  methods  are  indirect.  If  then  they  occupied 
the  Hkamti  plain  in  force,  they  might  easily,  as  they 
well  know  how,  inflame  the  Kachins  against  us,  using 
them  as  a convenient  catspaw  to  harass  the  northern 
frontier.  Further,  with  China  controlling  the  whole 
of  this  great  plain,  all  hope  of  opening  up  direct  com- 
munication between  Burma,  the  Zayul  valley  and  south- 
eastern Tibet  on  the  one  hand,  and  between  Burma, 
Assam  and  Hkamti  via  the  Hukong  valley  on  the  other, 
would  come  to  an  end  ; and  as  this  route  via  the  Diphuk 
La  is  probably  the  only  one  by  which  communication 
between  the  Burmese  hinterland  and  Tibet  can  be 
established,  that  dream  too  would  have  to  be  given  up. 

China,  moreover,  would  have  driven  a big  wedge  into 
the  Burmese  hinterland,  cutting  it  off-  from  Tibet, 
threatening  Upper  Burma  and  threatening  Assam.  She 
would  leave  behind  her  the  greatest  obstacles  to  any 
attack  on  Burma  from  the  north-east,  and  stultify  the 
great  advantage  which  would  otherwise  accrue  to  us 
from  acting  on  internal  lines  of  communication  in  case 
of  hostilities  on  this  frontier. 

At  some  future  date  China  will  be  more  formidable 


\ 


282  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

than  she  is  at  present,  and  though  I do  not  suggest 
that  China  will  ever  threaten  seriously  an  invasion  of 
India,  yet  the  history  of  the  past  thirty  years  has 
shown  that  she  can  be  a very  uncongenial  neighbour. 
The  western  provincial  governments  have  so  very 
clearly  shown  how  they  wish  to  establish  themselves 
in  the  Burmese  hinterland  that  the  Indian  Government 
is  wise  in  anticipating  the  event,  since,  whatever  the 
expense  now,  to  turn  them  out  ten  years  hence,  if  it 
were  at  all  feasible,  would  be  a most  costly  proceeding. 

That  the  Kachins  would  require  little  encouragement 
to  worry  the  people  of  the  plains,  especially  if  they 
received  a substantial  backing  from  the  north,  cannot 
be  doubted.  Some  of  the  clans  are  independent  and 
truculent,  and  though  it  would  perhaps  be  flattery  to 
call  them  warlike,  still,  like  most  hill-men,  they  can 
be  a serious  nuisance  on  occasion.  As  recently  as 
January,  1915,  the  Kachins  to  the  north-west  of  Myit- 
kyina,  occupying  unadministered  territory,  raided  the 
peaceful  tribes  and  stoutly  resisted  the  British  punitive 
expedition.  Most  of  the  Kachin  tribes  probably  do 
not  love  the  British  Raj ; they  dislike  paying  taxes  and 
at  present  no  doubt  neither  realise  nor  appreciate  the 
uses  to  which  those  taxes  are  put. 

It  can  then  be  readily  understood  that  if  the  Chinese 
got  amongst  them  and  represented  to  them  that  under 
British  rule  they  would  lose  their  liberty,  they  might 
become  a formidable  menace  to  our  rule  in  Upper 
Burma,  surrounding  British  territory  as  they  do  on 
three  sides.  For  this  reason  alone  it  is  above  all  things 
necessary  to  keep  the  Chinese  out  of  Hkamti  and  stand 
between  them  and  the  Kachins. 

Raiding  parties  into  the  hinterland  need  not  be  con- 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  283 

sidered  : in  the  end  they  can  only  defeat  their  own 
object  by  forcing  the  tribesmen  to  seek  the  protection 
of  Government.  Invasion,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a 
formidable  undertaking,  and  an  army  of  conquest  is 
useless  unless  two  conditions  are  fulfilled:  (1)  that 
it  can  be  rapidly  transported  to  the  point  where  it  is 
most  required  and  (2)  kept  there. 

As  for  any  army  the  Chinese  could  assemble  on  the 
North-East  Frontier  without  a single  mile  of  railway 
within  300  miles  of  that  frontier,  and  roads  so  bad  as 
to  be  almost  impassable  for  mules  in  summer,  no  rapid 
concentration  at  a selected  point  could  conceivably 
be  effected ; and  once  over  the  frontier,  their  base 
behind  them,  as  many  marches  as  the  army  went 
forward  it  would  have  to  retire,  unless  it  were  certain 
that  Hkamti  could  be  reached,  and  taken,  in  a given 
time.  To  effect  a surprise  would  be  impossible,  and  any 
such  expedition  would  probably  perish  in  the  jungles. 

As  regards  keeping  an  army  in  the  Burmese  hinter- 
land, all  supplies  would  need  to  be  transported  there, 
and  the  country  could  not  supply  the  transport.  Even 
the  fortified  posts  in  the  Salween  valley  are  supplied 
with  meat  and  other  necessaries  from  the  garrison  cities 
of  western  Yun-nan. 

That  the  Chinese  were  not  already  established  in 
Hkamti  by  1914  was  their  own  fault;  they  had  spied 
out  the  land  in  1906.  But  there  is  no  continuity  in 
China’s  foreign  policy,  and  the  central  government  is  in 
the  habit  of  leaving  provincial  governments  in  the  lurch 
when  through  failure  to  succeed  in  any  enterprise  they 
find  themselves  entangled  with  a foreign  government. 
This  saves  her  much  temporary  inconvenience,  but  may 
introduce  embarrassments  later. 


284  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

Up  to  1912  no  steps  had  been  taken  by  the  Yun-nan 
Government  for  the  occupation  of  Hkamti ; the  Chinese 
survey  parties  which  entered  the  hinterland  that  winter 
were  chiefly  engaged  in  seeking  a road  to  Tibet,  and 
their  numbers  were  in  any  case  far  too  few  to  occupy 
territory.  They  were  easily  dispersed  by  the  British 
expedition,  and  all  Chinese  pretensions  to  the  hinterland, 
beyond  the  still  disputed  Taron  valley,  disappeared.1 

It  being  conceded  that  it  is  necessary  to  keep  the 
Chinese  out  of  the  hinterland,  the  next  thing  to  consider 
is  the  best  way  to  do  it.  Would  it  be  better  to  occupy 
the  Hkamti  plain,  or  to  defend  what  we  claim  as  the 
frontier — namely,  the  Salween  divide  from  latitude 
26°  N.  almost  to  the  sources  of  the  Irrawaddy? 

The  southernmost  pass  leading  from  the  Salwreen 
directly  into  the  Irrawaddy  basin — namely,  the  Hpimaw 
Pass — had  been  frequently  crossed  by  Chinese  troops 
and  the  hill  country  invaded.  Would  it  be  best  to 
extend  the  road  northwards  from  Hpimaw  along  the 
frontier,  erecting  more  forts  where  necessary,  or  leave 
the  Hpimaw  fort  to  mark  the  limit  of  our  advance 
along  the  frontier,  and  occupy  Hkamti? 

Now  I have  briefly  described  my  journey  northwards 
from  Hpimaw  to  beyond  the  Ahkyang  confluence,  and 
two  things  stand  out  prominently  in  my  memory : 
(1)  the  enormous  difficulty  and  expense  of  carrying  a 
road  over  the  Wulaw  Pass  and  up  the  ’Nmai  hka  valley, 
a route  which  seems  to  me  to  present  far  greater  diffi- 
culties than  that  up  the  Mali  valley  from  Myitkyina  to 
Fort  Hertz  (2)  the  extraordinary  wildness  and  sparse 
population  of  the  mountains  and  valleys  between  the 

1 Since  this  was  written  the  British  frontier  line  has  been  selected, 
leaving  the  Taron  to  the  Chinese,  and,  in  the  north,  to  the  Tibetans. 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  285 

’Nmai  valley  and  the  magnificent  barrier  of  the  Salween 
divide.  To  carry  the  Hpimaw  road  east  of  the  ’Nmai 
valley,  whether  the  route  is  more  practicable  or  not,  is 
impossible  without  vast  expenditure,  because  no  labour 
or  supplies  are  available. 

But  what  advantage  is  gained  by  protecting  the 
immediate  frontier?  We  should  simply  sacrifice  all  the 
advantages  of  maintaining  a strip  of  almost  uninhabited 
and  uninhabitable  country  between  the  frontier  and  a 
less  advanced  base,  without  covering  Hkamti,  which 
would  still  be  open  to  invasion  from  the  north  via  the 
Zayul  valley  and  Diphuk  La  if  south-east  Tibet  was 
in  the  hands  of  the  Chinese  as  it  was  in  1911.  By 
holding  Hkamti  itself,  apart  from  its  economic  advan- 
tages, we  do  not  imperil  the  frontier  territory  in  the 
slightest  degree,  since  the  Chinese  would  never  settle 
in  the  hinterland  except  on  the  paddy-land  of  Hkamti ; 
while  to  cross  this  strip  would  be  for  the  Chinese  to 
risk  everything  to  meet  exactly  as  strong  opposition 
there  as  they  would  meet  with  if  they  crossed  the 
frontier  200  miles  farther  south  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Myitkyina  or  Bhamo. 

To  hold  Hkamti,  and  not  the  frontier,  is  to  treble 
the  distance  between  the  Chinese  military  cities  of 
north-western  Yun-nan  and  their  first  objective  in  case 
of  an  invasion  of  Burma  from  the  north-east.  Any 
force  striking  at  Burma  from  the  north  or  north-east 
must  pass  through  Hkamti.  It  is  the  only  place  an  in- 
vading force  would  dare  to  halt  at.  Therefore  Hkamti 
Long  is  the  strategic  key  to  the  entire  frontier. 

The  defensive  position  to  be  thoroughly  effective 
must  be  as  near  as  possible  to  both  Upper  Burma 
and  Assam,  so  that  it  can  be  rapidly  reinforced  from 


286  THE  NORTH  EAST  FRONTIER 

either  direction.  The  only  places  fulfilling  these 
conditions  are  the  Hukong  valley  and  Hkamti  Long. 

The  ’Nmai  valley  is  out  of  the  question.  Not 
only  is  no  settlement  of  it  possible — half  the  advantage 
of  working  on  internal  lines  is  lost  if  the  base  is 
pushed  so  far  forward  in  a country  devoid  of  natural 
means  of  communication. 

Quite  apart  from  the  economic  advantages  of  holding 
the  plain,  with  its  paddy-land,  its  comparative  ease 
of  access  from  Myitkyina,  and  its  control  of  the 
routes  into  Assam,  it  is  of  very  great  advantage  to 
the  tranquillity  of  the  Burmese  hinterland.  As  long 
as  there  was  a possibility  of  acquiring  the  plain  the 
Chinese  along  the  frontier  were  restless.  Here  was 
splendid  paddy-land,  a halting-place  on  the  road  to 
the  upper  Brahmaputra  (Tsanpo)  valley  and  Lhasa, 
as  they  thought,  and  no  one  in  possession.  -Why 
should  they  not  acquire  it  and  extend  the  borders 
of  Yun-nan  westwards,  so  as  to  embrace  the  whole 
of  the  source  streams  of  the  Irrawaddy  ? 

Now  that  the  plain  is  lost  to  them  they  will  no 
longer  bother  about  it.  Frontier  raiding  will  become 
profitless,  and  the  pedlars  will  come  peacefully  as  of 
old  over  the  passes  selling  clothes,  cotton,  yarn  and 
salt  to  the  natives. 

I have  said  above  that  no  advance  on  Myitkyina 
from  the  north-east  is  possible  without  first  crossing 
Hkamti,  but  this  is  perhaps  open  to  objection.  There 
is  still  the  ’Nmai  hka  valley,  and  by  entering  the 
country  via  the  comparatively  well-populated  Ahkyang 
valley  or  down  the  Laking  valley,  both  of  which  routes 
have  been  in  the  past,  and  are  still,  used  by  Chinese 
traders,  it  might  be  thought  that  in  the  event  of 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  287 

a simultaneous  attack  along  the  Burma  frontier  a con- 
siderable diversion  could  be  created  from  the  north- 
east. 

However,  setting  aside  the  improbability  of  any  such 
combined  attack  over  the  widely  separated  passes  which 
present  all  degrees  of  difficulty,  no  force  capable  of 
creating  a considerable  diversion  could  be  marched 
down  the  ’Nmai  valley  at  one  time.  The  posts  north 
of  Myitkyina  at  the  lower  end  of  the  ’Nmai  valley  are 
strong  enough  to  cope  with  any  raiding  expedition  that 
could  approach  Upper  Burma  from  this  direction,  and 
it  does  not  seem  necessary  at  present  to  watch  the 
valleys  by  which  the  Chinese  might  enter  the  hinter- 
land— namely,  the  Laking,  Mekh  and  Ahkyang.  But 
so  long  as  such  a rallying-point  as  Hkamti  were  not 
occupied  by  us,  it  would  be  necessary  to  watch  every 
route  by  which  the  Chinese  could  reach  it,  and  this 
would  imply  a considerable  system  of  communications 
in  a country  less  adapted  to  road-making  than  is  the 
Mali  valley.  Whereas  by  occupying  Hkamti  the  very 
difficulties  which  would  make  it  so  inconvenient  for  us 
to  hold  the  frontier  would  deter  the  Chinese  from 
crossing  into  our  territory. 

As  for  local  raids,  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  to  con- 
sider them.  North  of  the  Hpimaw  hill  tracts  there  is 
nothing  worth  raiding  and  the  numbers  able  to  embark 
on  such  a profitless  undertaking  would  necessarily  be  so 
few  that  the  local  tribesmen  would  be  sufficiently  strong 
to  resist  them. 

Having  seen  something  of  the  North-East  Frontier 
both  on  the  Chinese  side  (the  Salween  valley)  and  in 
British  territory,  I feel  certain  that,  so  long  as  we  hold 
Hkamti,  aggression  from  the  north-east  cannot  possibly 


288  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

succeed,  nor  is  an  attack  from  that  direction  likely. 
The  Salween  valley  itself  is  a formidable  barrier 
separating  the  possible  points  of  Chinese  concentration, 
in  western  Yun-nan,  from  the  mountainous  frontier, 
and  though  there  are  numerous  passes  into  the  Burmese 
hinterland,  the  routes  are  so  long  and  difficult  that 
news  of  the  approach  of  even  a small  raiding  party 
would  be  known  in  Hkamti  long  before  anything  useful 
could  be  accomplished. 

There  is  another  circumstance  which  must  soon 
bring  the  North-East  Frontier  into  prominence.  The 
Burmese  hinterland  is  the  link  between  India  and 
China. 

My  personal  experience  of  the  country  leads  me 
to  believe  that  no  southern  trans-Asiatic  railway  will 
ever  be  built  in  this  region — the  physical  barriers 
on  the  China  side  are  too  enormous;  nevertheless, 
with  the  development  of  mechanical  transport,  roads 
might  be  built  across  the  North-East  Frontier. 

The  main  routes  through  Asia  were  marked  out 
in  the  long  past,  and,  except  where  they  have  been 
obliterated  by  the  gradual  desiccation  of  Central  Asia, 
are  the  same  now  as  they  were  many  centuries 
ago.  Such  do  not  change,  for  the  great  centres  of 
population  do  not  change  except  slowly,  and  physical 
barriers  remain  where  they  have  always  been ; even 
when  railways  replace  roads,  they  follow  those 
roads. 

It  is  sea  transport  that  has  diverted  attention  from 
the  trade  routes  of  interior  Asia.  Since  the  Portuguese 
and  the  Dutch,  the  French  and  the  English  came 
to  Asia  by  sea,  the  land  routes,  always  running  from 
east  to  west  across  the  continent,  skirting  the  deserts 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  289 

and  following  the  great  longitudinal  valleys,  have  not 
been  approached  from  north  or  south. 

Now  the  perfection  of  mechanical  land  transport 
may  see  a return  to  the  great  trans-continental  roads. 

They  were  wise,  those  old  autocrats.  They  grasped 
right  principles  and  built  on  the  grand  scale.  The 
Great  Wall  of  China  may  have  fallen  into  disuse  under 
altered  conditions  of  war,  but  not  the  Grand  Canal. 
Peace  conditions  have  not  changed  so  much  even 
after  two  thousand  years,  and  the  Grand  Canal  is 
indeed  to  be  restored. 

We  cannot  divert  trade  in  Asia  while  men  live 
where  they  do  live,  migrate  as  they  do  migrate, 
while  deserts  and  mountain  ranges  and  rivers  are 
where  they  are — it  still  flows  along  accustomed  routes, 
and  will  continue  to  do  so  when  the  pyramids  lie  in 
the  dust. 

We  can  supplement  it,  increase  it  by  improving 
communications,  but  we  cannot  stop  it.  Trade  routes 
are  not  abandoned  till  nature  renders  them  impassable. 

Thus  it  is  our  endeavour  to  study  the  main  channels 
of  trade,  and  to  ease  all  friction,  that  it  may  flow 
easily  and  naturally. 

Every  new  means  of  transport,  every  short-cut  to 
the  markets  of  the  world,  must  be  employed,  not  in  a 
selfish  attempt  to  snatch  profits,  but  to  benefit  all. 

And  history  shows  that  this  is  so — in  profiting 
ourselves  we  profit  others.  Our  policy  in  Asia  has 
always  been  to  open  and  to  keep  open  trade  routes 
for  all.  We  spent  lacs  of  rupees  and  valuable 
lives — I need  instance  only  that  of  Margary — to 
reopen  the  Bhamo-Tali-fu  trade  route,  since  when 
both  Burma  and  Yun-nan  have  reaped  prosperity  as 


29o  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

a direct  result.  The  story  of  that  effort  is  not  very 
creditable  to  the  Indian  governments  concerned,  but 
in  the  end  the  work  of  the  pioneers — Margary,  Sladen, 
Clement  Williams  and  others — was  crowned  with 
success,  and  results  have  amply  justified  it. 

The  history  of  our  attempts  to  open  up  direct 
communication  between  India  and  Tibet,  or  between 
India  and  China,  is  not  dissimilar,  except  in  this 
respect — that  there  never  has  been  such  communication 
in  the  past.  The  way  from  Central  Asia  to  India  has 
always  been  by  the  North-West  Frontier. 

We  may  confidently  believe,  therefore,  that  if  such 
a route  would  have  served  any  useful  purpose  in  the 
past,  it  would  have  been  found  and  used  by  the 
Tibetans  or  by  the  Chinese. 

Before  sea  trade  was  developed,  such  a road  led 
nowhere.  It  was  a blind  alley,  leading  only  to  the 
sea.  And  there  were  bad  lands  to  cross — it  was 
not  worth  it. 

Now  it  is  different.  The  great  trade  routes  of 
Asia  are  still  there  as  of  yore;  some  of  them  lie 
only  just  beyond  the  North-East  Frontier,  to  north 
and  east,  linking  up  the  richest  province  in  China 
with  the  richest  part  of  Tibet.  Caravans  from  half 
a continent  still  ebb  and  flow  along  them.  And  in 
the  south  the  sea-borne  trade  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth  plies  patiently,  still  seeking  its  way  slowly  but 
surely  to  the  heart  of  Asia.  Between  them  lies  the 
Burmese  hinterland,  across  which  we  must  stride 
to  the  open  spaces  beyond.  With  the  railhead  at 
Myitkyina,  only  300  miles  from  the  Tibetan  frontier, 
and  a good  mule-road  already  constructed  for  200 
miles,  to  Ilkamti  Long,  it  would  be  comparatively 


THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER  291 

easy  to  extend  it  so  as  to  link  up  Burma  with  the 
richest  provinces  of  Tibet. 

Thus  our  road  would  not  be  useless,  our  past  efforts 
to  open  up  direct  communication  with  Tibet  not  wasted. 
For  history  proves  that  the  great  trade  routes  are  as 
eternal  as  the  Himalaya.  Just  out  of  reach,  beyond 
our  frontier,  the  flood  trade  rolls  on  past  India.  The 
proposed  route,  tapping  this  great  stream,  will  revive  it, 
nourish  it,  swell  it  and  share  its  new-born  prosperity. 

In  this  way  too  a land  connection  between  Burma 
and  Assam  of  strategic  value  in  improving  the  internal 
lines  of  communication  would  be  assured.  From 
Rima,  in  the  Zayul  valley,  there  would  be  a choice 
of  routes:  (i)  down  the  Zayul  valley  to  the  Assam 
railway,  a distance  of  about  150  miles;  (2)  over  the 
Diphuk  La  to  Hkamti  Long,  whence  Burma  could 
be  reached  via  the  Hukong  valley,  or  by  following 
the  present  road,  down  the  Mali  valley.  By  this 
last  route  Rima  is  about  300  miles  from  railhead. 

Thus  our  policy  will  be  to  improve  existing  com- 
munications and  open  up  direct  access  to  the  interior 
by  the  shortest  possible  route. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  it  would  not  prove 
a very  difficult  feat  to  carry  a railway  up  the  Mekong 
valley,  the  strategic  value  of  which  would  be  to  the 
Chinese  considerable. 

From  the  middle  Mekong  the  railway  might  be 
carried  across  to  Tali-fu,  thus  missing  the  formidable 
mountain  range  between  this  river  and  the  Yang-tze, 
while  the  great  range  between  the  Mekong  and  the 
Salween  would  be  crossed  far  to  the  north,  where 
both  rivers  flow  from  the  north-west. 

As  to  the  proposed  southern  trans-Asiatic  railway, 


292  THE  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 

it  is  certain  it  will  never  cross  the  Burmese  hinterland. 
Should  it  ever  be  built,  it  must  run  north  of  the 
Irrawaddy  triangle,  from  the  Tsanpo  valley  to  the 
Salween  valley,  entering  Yun-nan  by  the  Mekong 
valley. 


\ 


APPENDICES 


APPEN  9i)j 

SYNOPSIS  OF  THE  PRINCIPAI 


Common 

English 

Name 

As  called 
by  the  tribe 
itself 

Chinese 

Kachin 

Maru 

Lashi 

Kachin 

Ching-paw 

Shan-t‘ou, 
or  Yeh-jen1 2 

— 

P‘u-man 

(?) 

P‘ok 

Maru 

\ 

Lawng-vaw 

Lan-su 

Ma-ru 

— 

Lang 

Las  hi 

Le-chi 

Ch‘a-shan 

La-shi 

La-si 

— 

Lisu,  or 
Yawyin 

Li-su 

Li-so,  or 
Yeh-j^n1 

Yaw-yen 

La-si 

La-si 

Shan,  or 
Tai 

Hkamti  3 4 

Pai-i 

Sam  or 
Hsam 

Sen 

Sam 

Nung 

Taron 

(Tourong) 

Kiu-tzu 

Nung 

— 

— 

1 The  words  yeh-jen  mean  “wild  man”  and  are  commonly  applied  to  any  of  th 

2 The  Shans  have  confused  the  Lisu  with  the  Nung,  using  the  same  name  for  both 

3 The  Shans  were  once  a great  race,  but  have  become  split  up  into  a number  o 
geneous  body  of  Shans  now  are  the  Siamese.  The  word  “Shan"  is  the  Burmes 

4 Hkunung  means  “slave  Nung." 


it 


bola 

naitii 


294 


DIX  I 

TRIBES,  NORTH-EAST  FRONTIER 


Lisu 

Shan 

Nung 

Principal  Present  Home 

— 

Hkang 

— 

Mali  valley,  Hukong  valley  and 
trans-Mali  country 

La-si 

Ma-lu 

— 

’Nmai  hka  and  tributaries  up  to 
lat.  270  30' 

— 

— 

— 

Htawgaw  Hills  and  Ngawchang 
hka 

— 

Chenung  2 

— 

Salween  valley,  Salween-Irrawaddy 
divide,  tributaries  of  the  ’Nmai  hka 

— 

— 

— 

Plain  of  Hkamti  Long 

— 

Hkunung  4 

— 

Taron  and  valleys  to  the  west, 
north  of  lat.  2 7°  30' 

hill  tribes.  The  word  Yawyin  is  clearly  a corruption  of  it. 

isolated  bodies,  of  whom  the  Hkamti  Shans  are  one.  The  only  considerable  homo- 
name  for  them.  The  Hkamti  Shans  call  themselves  simply  Hkamti. 

4 


295 


APPENDIX  II 


THE  following  list  includes  some  of  the  more 
interesting  plants  which  l collected  in  the 
Htawgaw  Hills  in  1914  and  1919;  others 
are  mentioned  in  the  course  of  the  narrative.  Those 
printed  in  heavy  type  are  new  species ; those  marked 
with  an  asterisk  are  in  cultivation  in  England  raised 
from  my  seeds.  The  numbers  refer  to  my  catalogues. 

The  identifications  are  by  Sir  Isaac  Bayley  Balfour, 
F.R.S.,  and  Mr  W.  W.  Smith,  M.A.,  to  whom  I am 
indebted. 

3224.  Abelia  sp.  (undetermined). 

1707.  Acanthopanax  evodimfolius,  Franch.  var.  fer- 
rugineus,  W.  W.  Sm.  var.  nov. 

1963.  Acanthopanax  trifoliatus,  Schneider. 

1414.  Acer  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

*3575.  Aconitum  sp.  (undetermined). 

1945.  iEginetia  indica,  Roxb. 

200.  Agapetes  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

*3428.  Allium  sp.  (undetermined). 

3310.  Androsace  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3171.  Androsace  Henryi  (?). 

1975.  Apios  carnea,  Benth. 

3590.  Arenaria  pogonantha. 

1660.  Beesia  cordata,  B.  fil.  et  W.  W.  Sm.  gen. 
nov.  Ranunculacearum. 

’ 1670.  Bletilla|hyacinthina,  Reich,  f. 

1867.  Buddleiajimitanea,  W.  W.  Sm. 

297 


Cassiope  myosuroides,  W.  W.  Sm. 


298  APPENDIX  IT 

*3314.  Buddleia  sp.  (undetermined). 

3697.  Campanula  colorata. 

331 1.  Cassiope  palpebrata,  (?)  W.  W.  Sm. 
1824.  Chirita  umbricola,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1733.  Circma  alpina,  Linn. 

3084.  Clintonia  sp.  (undetermined). 

1698.  Clitoria  Mariana,  Linn. 

*3491.  Codonopsis  sp.  (undetermined). 

1569.  Coelogyne  corymbosa,  Lindl. 

1708.  Corydalis  saltatoria,  W.  W.  Sm. 

3663.  Cotoneaster  rotundifolia. 

1 78  3.) 

*336°  j ^eman^0(ttum  gracillimum,  W.  W.  Sm. 

*^361  jcremanthodium  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

*3409.  Cremanthodium  sp.  (undetermined). 
3478.  Cymbidium  sp.  (undetermined). 

1643.  Cypripedium  bracteatum,  Rolfe. 

Daedalacanthus  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 
Dendrobium  sp.  (undetermined). 
Dipentodon  sinicus,  Dunn. 

Disporum  pullum,  Salisb. 

1596.  Drosera  peltata,  Sm. 

3122.  Enkianthus  sp.  (undetermined). 
*3045.  Enkianthus  sp.  (undetermined). 
*3122.  Enkianthus  deflexus  (?). 

1 667.  Epipactis  Royleana,  Lindl. 

1 543.  Euonymus  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1691.  Gaultheria  trichophylla,  Royle. 

1613.  Gaultheria  fragrantissima.  Wall. 

1590.  Gaultheria  Griffithiana,  Wight. 


2003. 

l599- 

1526. 


APPENDIX  II  299 

*3062.  Gaultheria  sp.  (undetermined). 

1840.  Gaultheria  laxiflora,  Diels  (new  to  Burma). 
1879.  Goodyera  Schlechtendaliana,  Reichb.  f. 

1982.  Gynura  angulosa,  DC. 

*3644.  Hedychium  sp.  (undetermined). 

1662.  Herminium  angustifolium,  Lindl. 

1 542.  Hydrangea  subferruginea,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1592.  Hydrangea  yunnanensis,  Relider. 

1 853.  Hydrangea  aspera,  D.  Don. 

1576.  Illicium  yunnanense,  Franch. 

*3386.  Iris  sp.  (undetermined). 

1043.  Lagotis  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

3683.  Leptocodon  gracile. 

1894.  Lysionotus  gracilis,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1895.  Lysionotus  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

*3427.  Lilium  Thompsonianum. 

*3261.  Lilium  Wallichianum. 

*3446.  Lloydia  sp.  (undetermined). 

1979.  Limnophila  hirsuta,  Benth. 

1980.  Limnophila  sessiliflora,  Blume. 

3376.  Listera  sp.  (undetermined). 

3277.  Lonicera  sp.  (undetermined). 

3698.  Magnolia  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3709.  Magnolia  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3281.  Meconopsis  Wallichii. 

1504.  Microglossa  volubilis,  DC. 

1769.  Microstylis  muscifera,  Ridley. 

1624.  Mimulus  nepalensis,  Benth. 

*3100.  Mimulus  sp.  (undetermined). 

1712.  Millettia  cinerea,  Benth. 

2005.  Mucuna  pruriens,  DC. 

*3268.  Nomocharis  pardanthina,  (?)  B.  fil. 

1862.  Oberonia  myriantha,  Lindl. 


APPENDIX  II 


1865.  Oxyspora  serrata,  Diels. 

3286.  Parnassia  sp.  (undetermined). 

3282.  Philadelphus  sp.  (undetermined). 
*3394.  Polygonum  Griffithii. 

1602.  Polygonum  runcinatum.  Ham. 

1714.  Polygonum  microcephalum,  D.  Don. 
1854.  Polygonum  molle,  Don. 

1937.  Polygonum  chinense,  Linn. 

1940.  Polygonum  orientale,  Linn. 

19 73.  Polygonum  hydropiper,  Linn. 

1983.  Polygonum  perfoliatum,  Linn. 

*3453.  Polygonum  sp.  (undetermined). 
3393.  Polygonum  Forrestii. 


* ’ v,“uu. 

*1632.  Primula  seclusa. 

*3094.  Primula  calliantha  (?). 

*3389.  Primula  involucrata  (?). 

3186.  Primula  Delavayi  (?). 

1644.  Primula  fragilis,  B.  fil  et  Ward. 

1 805.  Primula  coryphaea,  B.  fil  et  Ward. 
1784.  Primula  sciophila,  B.  fil  et  Ward. 

1634.  Primula  Beesiana. 

1635.  Primula,  helodoxa. 

3407.  Primula  serratifolia. 

*3656.  Primula  sp.  (undetermined). 
3092.  Primula  euosma  (?). 

3110.  Primula  sp.  (undetermined). 

3150.  Primula  sp.  (undetermined). 

1572.  Primula  sonchifolia. 

Primula  sp.  (undetermined). 
Primula  limnoica. 

Primula  Listeri. 


Craib, 


Photos  by]  [P-  Af.  P.  Leonard , Esq. 

Nung  Maidens  and  Iron  Smelter. 

Dressed  in  cloak  and  skirt  of  home  manufacture  : those  on  the  right  have  girdles  of  cowry 
shells  threaded  on  bamboo  ; those  on  the  left  wear  girdles  of  black  rattan  cane. 

The  smelter  is  holding  the  skin  bellows  by  which  the  draught  is  maintained.  The  furnace- 
is  made  of  mud. 


APPENDIX  II 


3QI 


1758.  Pueraria  Wallichii,  DC. 

1950.  Pueraria  Thunbergiana,  Benth. 

*3158.  Pyrus  sp. 

1851.  Rhododendron  agapetum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 
*1628.  Rhododendron  megacalyx,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 
*3101.  Rhododendron  arizelum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Forrest. 


Rhododendron  erigoynium,  Balf.  fil. 

1 596.  Rhododendron  facetum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 

*3042.  Rhododendron  habrotrychum,  Balf.  fil.  et 
W.  W.  Sm. 

*3267.  Rhododendron  herpeiticum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 
1567.  Rhododendron  mallotum. 

1791.  Rhododendron  nmaiense,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 

1906.  Rhododendron  operinum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 

1 565.  Rhododendron  regale,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 

*3016.  Rhododendron  siderium,  Balf.  fil. 

1629.  Rhododendron  sciaphilum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Ward. 
3316.  Rhododendron  sino-grande,  Balf.  fil.  et 


*3095.  Rhododendron  tapeinum,  Balf.  fil.  et  Farrer. 
1566.  Rhododendron  tanastylum,  Balf.  fil. 

1568.  Rhododendron  zaleucum,  Balf.  fil.  et  W.  W.  Sm. 
*3ooi-D.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3040.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 


1 538.  Rhododendron  dendricola,  Hutchinson. 


et  Ward. 


W.  W.  Sm. 


J _ ^Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 

33  5 j 

*3300.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 


302  APPENDIX  II 

*3301.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 
*3302.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 
*2202."| 

jRhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3304.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 
*3155.  Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 


*3i89-1 

3365-J 

*3408. 

3721- 

3722. 

3527- 

3006. 

3072. 

3401. 


Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 


-Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 

Rhododendron  sp.  (undetermined). 
Rhynchoglossum  obliquum. 

Rosa  bracteata  (?). 

Rosa  sericea. 

Rosa  sp.  (undetermined). 

*3199.  Roscoea  sp.  (undetermined). 

1695.  Rubus  loropetalus,  Franch  (new  to  Burma). 
1955.  Sabia  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1870.  Satyrium  nepalense,  Don. 

5*=  3°^^*  1 Schiza.ndra  grandiflora,  H.  f.  and  T. 

1693.  Scrophularia  Delavayi,  Franch. 

*3123.  Sorbus  sp.  (?  undetermined). 

1848.  Spathoglottis  pubescens. 

l Spiraea  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

33°7-j 

3363.  Spiraea  bella. 

1735.  Spiranthes  australis. 

1775.  Sporoxeia  sciadophila,  W.  W.  Sm.  gen.  nov. 

Melastomacearum. 

1749.  Streptopus  amplexifolius. 

3265.  Streptopus  sp.  (undetermined). 

1 9 1 1 . Strobilanthes  oresbius,  W.  W.  Sm. 


APPENDIX  II 


3°3 


1912.  Strobilanthes  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sin. 
1896.  Strobilanthes  stramineus,  W.  W.  Sm. 
2000.  Strobilanthes  arenicolus,  W.  W.  Sm. 
1857.  Thalictrum  semiscandens,  W.  W.  Sm. 
*3422.  Thalictrum  sp.  (undetermined). 
*300 1 -A.  Thalictrum  sp.  (undetermined). 
1760.  Tofieldia  yunnanensis,  Franch. 

1514.  Torenia  peduncularis,  Benth. 

1611.  Tovaria  finitima,  W.  W.  Sm. 

18 1 1.  Tovaria  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1705.  Tricyrtis  macropoda,  Miq. 

1718.  Tripterygium  Forrestii,  Loes. 

^ ^ )•  Viburnum  Wardii,  W.  W.  Sm. 

1 620.  j 

1658.  Viburnum  erubescens,  W.  W.  Sm. 
1716.  Viburnum  cylindricum,  Ham. 

1719.  Viburnum  fcetidum,  Wall. 


SIAM 

Railways 


Scale  : I inch=98J  slat,  miles-  Copyright  Seeley  Service  St  Co 

Map  showing  the  relative  position  of  THE  TRIANGLE  to  Neighbouring  States  and  Countries. 

It  is  situated  between  long.  95  and  100,  and  lat.  25  and  30,  and  is  indicated  thus * 


INDEX 


A 

Animals  and  birds — 

Animal  life,  absence  of,  75  ; in 
the  jungle,  252 

Baboon,  a pig-tailed,  182,  196, 

197,  223 

Baboons,  forest  alive  with,  23 
Bamboo  partridge,  58,  76 
Barking  deer,  40,  58,  98 
Bear,  58,  83,  135,  140 
Birds,  persecution  of,  by  natives, 

76 

Buffalo,  217 

Chinese  blood  pheasant,  89 
Fowls  destroyed  by  vermin,  49 
Game  on  the  North-East 
Frontier,  58,  241 
Gibbons,  216,  229 
Harvest  mouse,  165 
37 

Jungle  fowl,  24,  221;  rats,  50 
Kingfisher,  192 
Mithan,  140,  217 
Monkey,  140,  165,  173,  178, 

207 

Sclater’s  Monal,  89 
Serow,  58,  135,  140 
Shrew,  a new,  107 
Snakes,  57,  75,  79,  144,  146, 

*95 

Takin,  91,  135,  140;  distribu- 
tion of,  92 
Voles,  125 
Water-shrew,  132 
Woodpecker,  37 

B 

Barnard,  Mr  J.  T.  O.,  205,  221, 
223,  224,  227,  235,  260,  277 

305 


Barter,  Chinese  love  of,  61 
Brooks,  Dr,  227 

Buddhism,  22,  225,  236,  237, 
251 

Burd,  Captain,  227 

Burial  customs  in  China,  115,  1 16 

C 

Cane  bridges,  28,  29,  67,  119, 
138,  141, 142, 143, 160, 184; 
structure  of,  28 
Chinese,  migration  of,  79 
Chinese  wine,  63 
Clerk,  Mr  F.  V.,  153 
Coffin  plank  industry,  57,  113, 
120 

Conry,  Captain,  213,  216 
Cooper,  Mr  T.  T.,  220,  236 
Cultivation — 

Buckwheat,  49,  68,  136,  154, 
163.  174 
Capsicum,  182 
Cotton,  154,  183 
Cucumber,  112,  113,  195 
Hill-side  cultivation  (taungya), 
51,  66,  68,  69,  hi,  120,  123; 
difficulties  of,  70,  71 
Indigo,  154 
Job’s  tears,  242 

Maize,  49,  63,  no,  113,  120, 
136,  149,  153,  177,  183 
Millet,  1 1 3,  174 
Mountain  rice,  49,  153 
Pumpkins,  163,  182 
Rice  cultivation,  29,  30,  49,  67 
no,  225 

Taungya,  153,  154,  174,  183, 
264;  preparation  of,  51 


u 


306  IImDEX 


Cultivation — cont. 

Tobacco,  1 13,  135,  163,  182 
Village  cultivation,  229,  230, 
244,  248,  253,  264 
Yams,  182 

D 

Don  Juan,  a Chinese,  46,  47 
E 

Elephants  as  transport,  243, 
252,  253,  263,  269 
English  scenery  in  Burma,  231 

F 

Fever,  40,  43,  53,  69,  75,  78 
Fish  drive,  184 
Fish  traps,  118,  143 
Floras — 

Alpine  flowers,  86,  88,  90,  92, 
93;  meadows,  35,  36,  56, 
108,  128,  129,  208 
Bamboo  forest,  74,  133 
Chinese  flora,  142  ; relation  to 
Himalayan,  87 
Conifer  forest,  57,  85,  127 
Dwarf  shrubs,  90 
Forest  undergrowth,  34,  54,  72, 
77 

Indo-Malayan  flora,  142,  256 
Limestone  peak,  flora  of  a,  50, 
60,  105 

Mekong-Salween  divide,  flora 
of,  87 

Monsoon  forest,  20,  23,  25, 
247,  255,  256,  257 
North-East  Frontier  flora,  re- 
lationships of,  86,  256  ; route 
followed  by,  87  ; where  de- 
rived from,  87,  256  \ 

Temperate  rain  forest,  34,  36, 
37 > 54,  55,  74,  108,  133 
Flowers,  Gurkhas’  fondness  for, 
104 


Forest  fires,  22,  23 
Frontier  forts,  construction  and  use 
of,  48,  102,  103 

G 

Geology  of  the  Mali  valley,  246, 
254,  264 

Gold  dredgers,  272 
H 

Heavy  rains,  effect  of,  63 
Hertz,  Mr  W.  A.,  31,  205,  226, 
227,  243,  276,  277,  278 

I 

Insects,  etc. — 

Bees,  133,  134,  194,  204 
Blood-blister  flies,  52,  53,  98 
Bugs,  edible,  248 
Butterflies,  112,  141,  155,  162, 
218;  Dalchina,  169;  leaf- 
butterfly,  169;  Cyrestis,  170; 
Leptocircus,  170;  a curious 
assemblage  of,  168 
Butterfly,  a huge,  106 
Caterpillars,  curious  behaviour  of, 
81 

Cicadas,  142,  154,  202,  209, 
211 

Flies,  40,  88,  98 ; horse, 

52,  58,  209  ; house,  58,  192, 
194;  sand,  52,  58,  60,  98, 
I31*  J34,  i92,  202,  206, 

209,  211,  221,  241 

Land  leeches,  description  of, 
218 

Leeches,  55,  59,  104,  134,  209, 

210,  220,  241 

Mimicry,  a case  of,  53,  170, 
195 

Mosquitoes,  53,  80,  162,  192, 
194,  202,  204 
Red  ants,  162 


INDEX 


3 °7 


Insects — cont. 

Stick-insect,  104,  1x7,  209 
Ticks,  59,  241 
Iron  mines,  217 

J 

Jungle  shelter,  125,  135,  202, 
206 

L 

Langley,  Mr,  241 
Lao-niu,  21,  72,  109 
Leonard,  Mr  P.  M.  R.,  241 

M 

Mahseer  fishing,  25,  192 
Ming-kuan,  57,  62 
Monkey  scares,  no,  111,  112,  154 
Moon,  eclipse  of,  158 
Mountains — 

Hpimaw  hills,  15 1 
Imaw  Bum,  33,  65,  80,  81,  83, 
84,  85,  87,  88,  89,  1 17,  121, 
129 

Laksang  Bum,  66,  96,  105 
Lawhkaung  ridge,  24,  25,  27, 
39,  102,  142 
Noi  Matoi,  230 

North-East  Frontier,  mountain 
ranges  of,  18 

Mekong-Salween  divide,  130 
Salween-Irrawaddy  divide,  21, 
117 

N 

Nat-trees,  218 
Nats,  137 

North-East  Frontier,  delimitation 
of,  18,  284  ; recent  events  on, 
17,  260  ; trade  on,  136,  137, 
286  ; transport  on  the,  108 

O 

Opium,  40,  135 


P 

Pagodas,  Shan,  241,  242 
Passes — 

Chimili,  1 16 

Feng-shui-ling,  30,  50,  51,  56, 
57,  58,  64,  74,  114,  128 
Hpare,  27,  29 

Hpimaw,  30,  31,  38,  105,  108 

Lagwi,  27,  29 

Lakhe,  139 

Panwa,  24 

Shing-rup-kyet,  208 

Wulaw,  113,  117,  123,  131, 

138.  155 

Phallic  worship,  156,  258 
Phosphorescent  wood,  78 
Places  and  Posts — 

Assam,  17,  29,  87,  92,  108, 
109;  215,  220,  245 
Black  Rock,  30,  118 
Bhamo,  19,  46 

Fort  Hertz,  151,  156,  176, 
179,  215,  218,  226,  228, 
24 1 

Hpimaw,  1 5 1,  155,  172  ; arrival 
at,  31  ; expedition  to,  30, 
277  ; departure  from,  109  ; 
Fort,  21,  24,  27,  30,  33,  40, 
48,  50,  58,  74,  80,  97,  99, 
103,  107  ; garden  at,  50  ; 
occupation  of,  31,  104  ; road 
to,  27  ; supplies  at,  49  ; 
Valley,  30,  31,  39,  43,  66, 
95,  1 10  ; village,  31,  41,  100, 
101,  102 

Htawgaw,  26,  27,  29,  39,  102 
Kawnglu,  205,  212,  214,  221, 
224 

Lawkhaung  post,  25 
Laza,  257,  258 

Li-kiang,  21,  52,  61,  62,  100, 
122 

Lumpung,  28,  29 
Myitkyina,  18,  19,  20,  21,  97, 
107,  i53>  i56»  2°8,  2I4>  272 


308  INDEX 


Places  and  Posts — cont. 

’Nsop  post,  268 
Peopat,  26 

Putao,  228,  229,  241 
Sadon,  21 
Seniku  post,  22 
Tawlang,  153 

T‘eng-yueh,  21,  46,  47,  57, 
114,  115,  122,  124 
Tibet,  17,  37,  86,  92,  108,  180, 
231,  240 

Waingmaw,  20,  21 
Wauhsaung,  20,  21 
Yun-nan,  17,  18,  37,  43,  46, 
49>  57>  79>  85,  100,  104, 
114,  123,  157,  168,  240 
Poisoned  honey,  82 
Policy — 

Burmese  hinterland,  Chinese 
claims  to,  275,  277,  279,  286 
Indian  Government  and  the 
Burmese  hinterland,  278,  279 
North-East  Frontier,  natural 
defences  of  the,  279,  283, 
284,  287 

Menace  to  Burma  and  Assam, 
280,  281 

Railways,  possibility  of,  288, 291 
Pottinger,  Captain,  153,  275 

R 

Rat  traps,  134 
Rivers — 

Ahkyang,  107,  176,  183,  190, 
192,  199  ; expedition  to,  207 
Chipwi  hka,  24,  25,  27,  39 
Daru  hka,  264 
Hpawte,  1 16 

Irrawaddy,  i8>  20,  46,  58,  147, 
150,  208,  225  ; confluence 
of,  19,  270 ; navigation  on, 
19,  20,  270,  271  ; sources  of, 
19 

Taking  hka,  107,  117,  138, 
i39>  J42,  I47»  168,  174 


Rivers — cont. 

Mali  hka,  19,  159,  225,  240, 
247,  251,  257,  266 
Mekh  rame,  107,  160,  161, 

162,  167,  168,  170,  183 
Mekong,  19,  37,  38,  86,  114, 

139,  1S7>  161 
Nam  Lang,  244,  245 
Nam  Palak,  228,  230,  244 
Nam  Tisang,  211,  217,  218, 
221 

Nam  Yak,  246,  247 
Namre  rame,  168,  184,  185, 

186 

Ngawchang  hka,  22,  25,  27,  39, 
41,  65,  70,  80,  82,  96,  no, 
116,  117,  122,  138,  151 
’Nmai  hka,  18,  24,  27,  117, 

i39>  I47>  i5o»  I5I»  i53i 

!55>  J59>  l6o>  J68,  176, 

178,  183,  185,  198;  farewell 
to,  206 

’Nsop-zup,  19,  267 
Salween,  19.  37  > 38>  43.  58>  Il6> 
i39»  i57»  174,  199 
Shang  wang,  21 1 
Shingaw  hka,  24 
Shweli,  57,  58 
Ta  hka,  221 
Tammu  hka,  25 
Ti  hka,  224 
Tumpang  hka,  22 
Wot  hka,  248 
Rope  bridge,  143,  203 

•s 

Slavery,  abolition  of,  233,  234 
Storm,  a destructive,  187 

T 

Terrier  pup,  adventures  of,  151, 
161,  196,  220,  223,  224 
Thunderstorm,  24,  72,  148,  154, 

163,  181 

Trade  routes  in  Asia,  288,  289 


3°9 


TNDEX 


Trees  and  plants — 

Acer,  36 

Aeschynanthus,  n8,  119 
Ailanthus,  195 

Alder-trees,  27,  69,  105,  119, 
142,  190,  192 
Allium,  128 

Alnus  nepalensis,  no,  195 
Alocasia,  155 
Amorphophallus,  118,  146 
Androsace,  88 
Androsace  axillaris,  59 
Anemone  vitifolia,  68 
Aristolochia,  57 
Aroid,  194,  208 
Astilbe,  108,  132 
Azalea,  202 

Balsam,  39,  52,  71,  77,  83, 
108,  116,  118,  119,  132, 
141,  208,  218 
Bamboos,  magnificent,  222 
Banana,  26,  142,  194,  208,  265 
Bauhinia,  66 
Beesia  cordata,  55 
Begonias,  67,  171,  194,  208, 
247 

Birch,  131,  192,  195 
Borassus,  218 

Bracken,  27,  36,  38,  39,  68, 
97,  98,  105 
Broomrape,  93 
Bryony,  97 
Bucklandia,  36,  74 
Buckthorn,  55 
Buddleia  limitanea,  36,  108 
Bugle,  52 

Cassiope,  86,  88,  92 
Castanopsis,  194 
Castor-oil  plant,  263 
Cherry,  90,  93,  131 
Chirita,  1x6,  146,  155,  171, 
182 

Clematis,  35,  54 
Club  mosses,  143 
Codonopsis,  55,  108 
Coffin  plank  tree,  113,  114 


Trees  and  plants — cont. 

Colocasia,  116,  17 1 
Conifer  forest,  84,  85 
Convolvulus,  2x8 
Coptis  teeta,  135 
Corydalis,  132 
Corydalis  saltatoria,  77 
Cotoneaster,  60,  66 
Cotton  grass,  97,  98 
Cremanthodium,  86,  88,  92,  128 
Cuckoo-p*nt  (drisama),  34,  35, 
54 

Curcuma,  22 
Currant,  132 
Cynoglossum,  108 
Cypress,  115 
Cypripedium,  59 
Cypripedium  arietinum,  106 
Dendrobium,  29 
Deutzia,  54 

Diapensia  himalayica,  88 
Didissandra,  97 
Englehardtia,  202 
Enkianthus,  36 
Epilobium,  108 

Ferns,  34,  54,  55,  67,  69,  72, 
84.  99>  I55»  I7I>  181,  247  ; 
bird’s-nest,  145,  218 
Ficus  cunea,  145 
Ficus  elastica,  265 
Fig-trees,  26,  36, 142,  145, 194, 
208 

Fir-trees,  83,  84,  85,  88,  89, 
126,  127,  129 
Flowers,  a paradise  of,  56 
Forget-me-not,  67 
Geranium,  36 
Gleichenia  liniaris,  116 
Globba,  1 18 

Grass-of-Parnassus,  127,  128 
Hamamelis,  105 
Hedychium,  38 
Hibiscus,  iqc 
Holly,  55 

Honeysuckle,  35,  55 
Hydrangea,  26,  132 


INDEX 


3 10 

Trees  and  plants — coni. 

Hypericum  patulum,  29 
Impatiens,  171,  181,  194,  207, 
208 

Irises,  31,  41,  54,  72,  115 
Jasmine,  60 
Juniper,  90,  93 
Larkspur,  128 
Leptocodon,  112 
Liliaceas,  84 

Lilies,  38,  54,  55,  68,  97,  105, 

127,  132 

Lilium  giganteum,  55  ; nepal- 
ense,  38  ; Thompsonianum, 
127  ; Wallichianum,  38 
Lousewort,  36,  128 
Luculia  gratissima,  54 
Lygodium  (climbing  fern),  67, 
112 

Magnolias,  26,  35,  74,  124 
Maple,  131 
Marrows,  153 

Meadow-rue,  56,  68,  97,  107, 

128,  129,  132 
Meconopsis  Wallichii,  130 
Melastoma,  155 
Mimulus  nepalensis,  52 
Monkey  flower  (Mimulus),  52, 

108,  132 

Monkshood,  1x8,  128,  129 
Mucuna,  146 
Mulberry,  265,  270 
Nipa,  218 

Nomocharis,  36,  89,  127 
Oak-trees,  26,  36,  55,  66,  74, 
105,  no,  125 

Orchids,  22,  34,  54,  55,  57, 
68,  72,  84,  89,  92,  93,  106, 
1 16,  1 18,  155,  270;  butter- 
fly (Calanthe),  34;  remark- 
able numbers  of,  29 
Osmunda  regalis,  38 
Palms,  26,  112,  143,  155,  221 
Peach-trees,  135 
Pedicularis,  83,  108 
Pieris,  27,  36 


Trees  and  plants — cont. 

Pine-trees,  27,  29,  105,  110, 
142,  186,  208 
Piper,  194,  195 
Podophyllum  Emodi,  84 
Polygonum,  67,  92,  108,  112, 

I33>  195 
Poplar,  105,  195 
Poppywort,  129 

Primulas  in  the  forest,  54,  57, 
60,  99,  107,  127,  132 
Primula  Beesiana,  55;  coryphaea, 
90  ; Delavayi,  128  ; fragilis, 
59  ; helodoxa,  55  ; limnoica, 
35  ; obconica,  26  ; sciophila, 

88  ; sonchifolia,  36,  54  ; 
sylvicola,  54,  106 

Pseudotsuga,  125 
Pyrus,  29,  93,  202 
Raspberries,  34,  41,  53,  83,  132 
Rheum,  128 

Rhododendron  agapetum,  99, 
106 ; an  epiphytic,  26,  54, 
55  ; crassum,  93  ; euchroum, 

89  ; indicum,  29,  146,  202  ; 
megacalyx,  54,  60  ; nmaiense, 

90  ; sino-grande,  57 
Rhododendrons,  26,  34,  55,  60, 

83,  84,  86,  99,  1 1 5,  126, 
132,  174;  dwarf,  90,  93; 
size  of,  85 
Rodgersia,  108 
Rose,  55,  89 
Royal  fern,  38,  108 
Rowan,  131 
Rubber-tree,  265 
Sagittaria,  41 

Sago  palms,  142,  149,  153, 
185,  187,  218,  263 
Saxifrage,  86,  127,  132 
Saxifraga  purpurascens,  92 
Schima,  36 
Schizandra,  35 
Screw  pines,  209,  244 
Selaginella,  72,  171,  181, 

218 


INDEX 


Trees  and  plants — coni. 

Scnecio,  128 
Spiraea,  89 
Strawberries,  58 
Stitch  wort,  128 
Strobilanthes,  118,  129,  133 
Sundew,  38 

Thunbergia  grandiflora,  247,  255 
Torenia,  173 
Tradescantia,  41 
Tree  ferns,  142,  186,  194 
Umbelliferae,  128 
Walnut-trees,  112,  153,  207, 
265 

Wayfaring-tree,  55 
Weigelia,  60 
Willow,  36,  90,  93,  105 
Willow-herb  (Epilobium),  38 
Zingiberaceae,  34,  105 
Tribal  relations,  232 
Tribes — 

Chingpaw,  41 
Duleng,  dress  of,  217,  224 
Hkamti  Shans,  decline  of,  259 
Kachin  burial  customs,  250 ; 

customs,  261  ; rafts,  19 
Kachins,  41,  47,  190 ; dress  of, 
248  ; independence  of,  262  ; 
religion  of,  245  ; silk  weaving, 
265 ; truculence  of,  262, 
282 

Lashi  intrigue,  101  ; savageness, 
44 

Lashis,  27,  30,  42,  43,  67,  69, 
71,  76,  100,  102,  105,  IIO, 
112,  xi6,  122,  124,  137, 
151,  158;  dress  of,  67,  68, 
96,  97  ; origin  of,  41,  44, 
235  ; relationships  of,  41 
Lisu  huts,  situation  of,  198 
Lisus,  27,  137,  167,  190,  194, 
198  ; he,  198,  199  ; hwa, 
198,  199 

Marus,  27,  41,  42,  134,  137, 
138,  150,  151,  156,  157, 
161,  167,  190,  240,  263, 264 


Tribes — coni. 

Maru  courtship,  163  ; customs, 
148,  149,  157,  160,  163, 
179,  191  ; graves,  157  ; hut, 
structure  of,  136,  143,  149  ; 
method  of  carrying  loads, 
157  ; villages,  situation  of,  25 
Marus,  dress  of,  137,  138,  139, 
150,  152,  153  ; home  of,  25, 
167  ; origin  of,  235 
Minchia,  52,  60 
Naingvaws,  150,  157,  185 
Nungs,  41,  240,  243,  247,  262, 
268 

Shans,  18,  25,  38,  43  ; dress 
of,  233  ; history  of,  236  ; 
huts,  239  ; relations  of,  with 
Great  Britain,  259  ; religion 
of,  236,  237 
Shapa  Lisu,  127,  136 
Singphos,  240 

Tai,  tragic  history  of,  232,  234 
Tribal  names,  origin  of,  42 
Tribes,  distribution  of,  42,  43  ; 
Chinese  names  for  different, 
42 

Yawyin  customs,  69,  122, 

124;  huts,  121  ; structure  of, 

121 

Yawyins,  27,  42,  43,  48,  57, 
66,  67,  69,  81,  121,  124, 
133*  *34,  180  ; Chinese 

influence  on,  199  ; dress  of, 

122 

T‘ung-ch‘ien,  21,  68,  85,  88,  100, 
109,113,  116,  134,  151,201, 
273 


V 

Village  of  the  dead,  a,  93 


W 

Water  from  bamboos,  71 


THE  RIVERSIDE  PRESS  LIMITED,  EDINBURGH 
GREAT  BRITAIN 


DATE  DUE 


